


Right Now

by unn_known



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Getting Together, Other, POV First Person, Smut, Updating tags as I go, and i'm not quite done writing the story so who knows what's gonna happen, because tags are hard, mature scenes, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 23:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 68,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20609264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unn_known/pseuds/unn_known
Summary: DJ's life gets turned upside down when her parents deliver some bad news. She figures it can't get worse than what it had already become, so she decides to do something that will change her life. Either for the good or bad, DJ plans on sticking through her decision. But will she end up regretting it? Or will it turn out to be better than she ever could have imagined?





	1. Ain’t It Funny How Life Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _life changes_, thomas rhett

I exit out of the game I'm playing, setting my phone off to the side as I grab my laptop that is suddenly playing the Skype video-calling ringtone. A wide grin spreads across my face when I see the name on the screen. Hurriedly clicking Accept with Video, I bite at my nails and wait for it to connect.

"Oh, hallelujah, your face is such a beautiful, amazing, welcome sight after seeing these freaks for the past three weeks!"

I laugh at the way my best friend slumps with her face within inches of the camera. "Thanks, Bri. How's the recording going? How are you? How is everyone?"

"Everyone is doing really well," she announces, sitting upright and crossing her legs. "They're finishing up what is quickly becoming my favourite right now. How about your gorgeous self? Tell, tell, tell!"

"Well, let's see. Still living with my parents because college is hella expensive. Still working at Cara Mia's even though it's probably the shittiest job I've ever had because I need to start paying off my student loans, which in combination with the terrible waitressing gig, is making it damn near impossible to save up for my own place." I shrug, pick at a hangnail. "Good thing is, Dad finally finished renovating the basement, so I've basically got my own little apartment down here. Well, minus the kitchen. Hey, speaking of. Mom wants to know when you're coming to visit. She misses actually having more than three people to cook for."

"Three? Where's your dad?"

"You know him - always working to make the world a better place. Tell me about the recording process! You know I'm not lucky like you, I've never been around that stuff."

Brianna had moved away from our cozy hometown in the backwoods of Tennessee, all the way across the seas to central London. She'd been accepted into a pretty high-ranking college here in the States, but she said she wanted more than that, so she chose to backpack across Europe on the money she inherited after her grandfather's death. The beauty of her travels (and a group of new friends that she stumbled across in a dark pub in some country she never specified) had enticed her into staying. From there, she built herself a new life. It's been almost a year since she left, but we manage to Skype every few days. However, due to work and classes, I haven't had much time for anything other than sleep.

"Trust me, it gets pretty boring, to be honest. All I really get to do is sit around or go walk around the city. Although the latter is getting kind of dangerous lately."

"What? Why?"

"What, you haven't heard? Figured the psycho-razzi would have spread the gossip by now. Huh... P-Hilt has it all."

I give her a questioning look but obediently bring up a web browser window. It doesn't take too much scrolling through perezhilton.com before I see what she's talking about. I gasp, and her laughter rings through the speakers.

**Louis Tomlinson: Is Mystery Girl "The One"?!  
** _As all Directioners know, 22-year-old heartthrob Louis Tomlinson has been spotted quite often with a pretty sexy blonde/brunette bombshell - for being a normal girl with no work done, that is! But... who is she? No one seems to know! The boyband and associates have all remained steadfastly tight-lipped! Ugh! All we want are answers!_

_I can say, though: Lately, there seems to be a new addition to MG's finger. Is it an engagement ring?? We may never know..._

I switch back to the Skype window. "Is it? An engagement ring, I mean."

"Oh, Hell no. Louis didn't even buy it for me, I saw it and got it for myself." Her devious smirk reminds me of growing up with her, all the trouble we got into. "I just love paparazzi. They twist everything up, don't they? And don't even get me started on the so-called fans. Since that article ran, my Twitter feed has blown up with death threats and accusations that I'm nothing but a gold-digging ho."

"You're awful," I laugh, twisting my hair around my finger, and she shrugs nonchalantly.

"I know. So, since you've asked about when _I_ am coming to visit, when are _you _coming to visit me? There's plenty of room in the house, and best of all, you get to see me every day."

"I can't do anything until the end of the semester, and even then, I'm probably going to end up picking up any and all shifts possible to prevent myself from getting too much further into this wonderful thing called crippling debt."

She sighs and rolls her eyes, but her lips quirk up on one side. "Okay, fine. Kill my buzz. Oh! The boys are back. Love ya!"

"Love ya, too."

Her face disappears from my screen, and I close my laptop. The basement seems to be even quieter than it was before she'd Skyped me. Exhaling heavily, I rise to my feet, make my way up the stairs. My mother stands at the kitchen sink, staring out the window over the backyard. I raise a brow; she looks older than the forty-six she is, her shoulders slumped and face heavy with lines. I watch her for a long minute.

"What's up, Mama?"

She starts, whirling on her heel to glare at me. "Nothing. And what have I told you about scaring me like that?"

"Sorry," I mutter. "Didn't mean to. Daddy still working?"

"Yeah, he had a surgery that ran long."

"Oh. Okay."

I grab a package of Ramen noodles from the wire rack and push against the side to snap the block of dried noodles into pieces. An indignant protest from my mother stops me, and I gape when she rips the packet from my hands and tosses it back onto the shelving. I decide to not argue when she shoos me from the kitchen. It isn't worth risking upsetting her just because I'm hungry. My little sister doesn't look up from her book when I push open her door.

"People really need to learn this awesome ritual that most civilised societies do. It's called knocking."

"Deal with it, shrimp. What'cha up to?"

"Trying to study for my finals. Ya know, those things that happen at the end of semesters that determine whether or not I pass the class, thus determining whether or not I graduate from high school?" Anna turns the page and reaches for a highlighter. "They're kinda important."

"Don't have to be a sarcastic asshole about it. Besides, you'll do fine. You're fuckin' brilliant."

She smiles slightly, tossing me a piece of candy from the bag on her desk - her reward system would never work for me, but it certainly benefits me sometimes. "You really should go visit Bri, ya know."

"Tell you what, I'll start knocking when you stop eavesdropping."

I close the door, pop the pink Starburst into my mouth, and head down to my bedroom. My attention is shot; no matter how hard I try, I can't concentrate on reading about Aziraphale and Crowley and all the other eclectic characters. I toss the book onto the mattress next to me and stare at the ceiling. I told Brianna the truth - I really can't afford any kind of trip, especially one overseas. I can barely afford to put gas in my car every other week. But... I miss my best friend. It hasn't been the same since she took off. I can't just drive five minutes and be at her front door.

My phone lets out a rapid _beepbeepbeep_. I stare at the device for a couple minutes, debating whether or not to answer Brianna's text.

**From: Briannnaaa ** _Please come visit. It'd be so much fun. Plus! You'll get to meet the guys and see them recording!!_

**To: Briannnaaa ** _I can't afford it :(_

**From: Briannnaaa ** _Maybe you could ask your dad?  
_ **From: Briannnaaa ** _I know your pride is all nooooo don't ask for help but you know your dad will do anything for you_

**To: Briannnaaa ** _That leaves Mama alone with Anna then, and even she's going off to college as soon as high school is over._

**From: Briannnaaa ** _And they'll be fine. What are you gonna do when you move out, visit so much that you might as well still live there?_

She has me there, and we both know it. I sigh, typing out _Of course not. I dunno, I'll think about it._

**From: Briannnaaa** _Pleeeeeeaaaase?_

**To: Briannnaaa ** _Maybe. Now stop asking before it becomes an automatic NO._

Since my attention span is basically nonexistent, I grab the remote to my TV and press the power button. Nothing catches my eye as I scroll through the channels; I stop on reruns of some old Western, mute the television, and settle in to spend hours watching shows I really don't care about. The familiar crunch of gravel under tires sounds half an hour later, followed by the heavy thud of a car door slamming shut. Footsteps creaked above my head, and I followed my father's path with my eyes. My brows furrow when I don't hear him saying anything to my mom; there's never been a day that they haven't greeted each other after he came home from work. I tiptoe up the stairs and press my ear to the door that leads to the kitchen. Their voices are muffled, and my confusion grows as I strain to hear.

"When, Rob?"

"Just a little longer," my dad sighs, and the clatter of silverware in the sink drowns out anything else he says.

Even without seeing her, I know my mother is frowning, the lines around her mouth deepening, and her hand is on her hip when she says, "There's really no reason to delay this any longer."

"Damn it, Missy. Stop, okay? I promise, it'll be done soon."

I sit down hard on the top step, listen to their footsteps fading as they leave the kitchen. What the Hell are they talking about? What would be "done soon"? I chew on my fingernail as my thoughts swirl around, chasing after each other with no sense of connection. I feel just like I had when I was seven, when my parents would whisper to relatives and family friends in the months before Grammy died. I'd not known then what was happening because they'd kept it from me until they couldn't put off telling the truth any longer - and the hushed conversation I just overheard does nothing but compound that similarity.

I push the door open a crack, check to see if the kitchen is empty, then hurry down the hallway to Anna's room. She is still studying, not appearing to have heard our parents. The words are on the tip of my tongue, ready to burst from me, but I can't push them out. She's busy, focused on her future, and besides, I don't even know if what my parents were talking about is a bad thing. They could have been preparing a surprise for either of us. No matter how much I doubt that, I can't do anything to upset Anna. So instead, I tap lightly at her doorframe, smiling when she finally looks up, and tell her our dad was home.

"Daddy!" she shrieks, rushing to her feet and barreling past me.

Mama is ladling chili into bowls by the time I reach the kitchen. The sight of the turquoise bowls with brightly-coloured flowers is a startling cause for concern. We rarely use that dishware set. I open my mouth to ask then decide against it, instead grabbing the pitcher of sweet tea from the refrigerator while Anna pulls down four glasses from the cupboard. Once the food is on the table and we're all seated, I let my mom and sister link their hands with mine and bow my head as Dad says grace to bless the meal. A twinge of guilt jerks in my gut when I say "Amen" with the others. Though I've gone to church every Wednesday and twice on Sunday since I was old enough to walk, I lost my faith long ago. Now, I do it to keep up appearances; the conversations that would occur if my parents found out are talks I willingly avoid.

The thick silence that hangs over the dining room makes it almost impossible to enjoy the meal. My mind races the entire time, and horrible scenarios play out in my head. Is my father really my father? Is Mama really my mother? Is one of them wanted by the FBI for some sort of crime? Are they - and Anna and I, by extension - part of the Witness Protection Program? _Oh, my god_, I think suddenly, as memories burst forth,_ maybe the cops found out about that night..._

"DJ? Are you all right?"

I snap to reality with a small squeak. My mom is staring at me, her brown eyes concerned, and it dawns on me that she's not the only one watching me closely. I slowly lower my spoon from its stationary position in front of my mouth where it's been slowly and steadily dripping chili into a small puddle on the table. Clearing my throat, I shift uncomfortably in my chair.

"Yeah, I'm, uh, fine. Sorry."

**............**

The car engine clicks quietly as it cools, and I close my eyes, letting my head fall back against the headrest. It's been three long days since that night at dinner, and I've come no closer to figuring out what the conversation had been about. Work has been ridiculously busy, which has helped keep my mind off of it, but it still leaves a lot of time to wonder when I'm not occupied with my job. Sighing, I grab my work apron, push open my door, and step out of the car. The silhouette of two vehicles in the garage catches my eyes; I stop and cup my hand to the glass in the door, frowning at the sight of my father's Audi next to my mom's Impala. Why is he home? I press the lock button on my key-fob over my shoulder and head up the sidewalk and into the house, remembering at the last second to take off my shoes by the door. The heels clack together when I scoop them up to place them on the shoe-rack.

"DJ, is that you?"

_No, absolutely not, it's the Boogyman_. "Yeah, Mama, it's me."

"Can you come in here please?"

I sigh, stare longingly at the basement door; my work uniform smells like garlic and pasta sauce, and I just want to head to bed. Unfortunately, my mother's tone wasn't exactly asking me to do what she wants. It was her "I'm demanding you to do something but phrasing it like a question so you feel like you have a choice" voice. I hook the strap of my purse over my shoulder, turning on my heel, and make my way to the archway to the living room. Anna is curled up in the armchair, and my parents are sitting on the couch. The distance between Mama and Dad sets off an alarm bell in my brain. I realise suddenly it's too quiet and look over at the television. The screen is black. _Signs two and three that something is wrong_, a voice in my head whispers. It's almost six o'clock on a Friday night. Anna should be studying - our parents have always pushed education and never interrupted our studies for anything less than a world catastrophe. And Mama rarely misses the news. My stomach clenches as I sit down in the rocking chair I inherited from Grammy.

"What's going on?" I ask, and my parents glance at each other while Anna shrugs.

"Girls," our dad starts before he exhales heavily, leaning forward with his hands clasped together. "Girls, you know your mama and I love you, so much. That's never, ever been anything but the truth. You both are the greatest blessings that's come from our marriage, and... we're so proud of you. But, well... your mother and I have, have been talking a lot lately, and we decided that it's best for us if..."

The screaming in my head grows louder with each word he says, and I can see Anna's eyes, wide and so blue, as she stares at our parents. The glare from the lamp next to her illuminates the tears that well up. My throat tightens, my eyes fall shut when my mother finishes my father's sentence.

"We're getting divorced."

The silence that settles over us suffocates me. Even my thoughts have gone mute. I can't think properly. I open my mouth to say something, anything, to make everything okay again, but what comes out startles even me.

"What the fuck for?"


	2. Let Go and Surprise Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _surprise yourself_, jack garratt

“Dakota James Bryce, you watch your language,” Mama snaps at my outburst, and I snort inelegantly.

“Why? I’m twenty-one. I’m a legal adult. I can say what I want.”

I know as soon as the words come out that it sounds immature, like I’m a petulant child unhappy with being scolded, but all I can think or care about is how everything has changed so abruptly. I laugh to myself bitterly as I remember my thoughts from the other night; I almost wish my parents were part of the Witness Protection Program. Then this wouldn't be happening. I shake my head when my dad begins speaking.

“Deej…”

“No. Don't call me that. You can't sit there and talk to me like everything is all right when it's not. What made you think this wouldn't fuck everything up?”

“Dakota, you will not be told again to watch your language. You are a beautiful young lady and a child of God. You don't curse like a sailor.”

I push myself to my feet, and the way my mother flinches back minutely almost makes me feel bad. But I don't even try to stop the thoughts that turn into words without my permission. “Yeah? Well, you're married. Married couples actually love each other. They don't spring it on their goddamn children that hey, we’re done trying, see ya. You know what, I'm going out. I'll be back whenever.” Pausing in the hallway, I look at my sister. “Coming, Banana?”

She rushes out of her chair and across the room, not giving our parents a second glance on the way. The front door slams behind her; I grab a pair of tennis shoes for her and slip my feet into my flats. I don't even care any more that I still smell like Cara Mia’s. Anna thanks me quietly when I pass over her shoes, and I nod in return before reversing out of my parking spot. Trees rush past the windows as I drive. Neither of us talk, but her hand finds mine ten minutes down the road, and I squeeze back as comfortingly as I can. I know we’re both thinking about the same thing.

Another thirty minutes slip by, my tires eating up the miles, and I finally pull into the parking lot of a diner in the next town over. She follows me silently into the building, and a waitress smiles and tells us to seat ourselves. I lead my sister to a booth in the back, slide in next to her, and wrap my arm around her shaking shoulders. When the server comes by the table, I force a grin and ask for two cups of coffee, cream and sugar on the side. She nods succinctly and disappears. Anna’s hand feels impossibly small in mine, like when we were kids and I was the one she looked up to and followed around even when she got scared.

“I, I'm not gonna ask if you're all right, because I know you're not, but… do you want to talk?”

Her head thumps against the side of my arm, and her voice trembles as she asks, “Why are they doing this, Deej?”

“Oh, Banana, I wish I could say that this is all just a bad dream. I really do. But I can't. Just know that I don't care if you're seventeen or forty-seven, I'm always gonna be here for you.”

“I know. I just wish things weren’t going to change.” Her breath comes out unsteadily, and she pushes away from me. “What’s going to happen?”

We finish our coffees without any more conversation. Anna heads out to the car while I pay, and the woman behind the register promises that things will get better. I stop myself from making a sarcastic remark and dip my chin before walking away. The drive back home is just as quiet, just as fraught with tension, and I try desperately to make the forty minutes’ trip longer by taking back roads. No matter what I do, though, I know the routes like the back of my hand, and autopilot keeps me going forward. Eventually, I clear my throat; Anna doesn't move her head from where it's resting against the window.

“D’you… wanna come visit Bri with me?”

Her shoulders rise and fall with her sigh. “Nah. I mean, I'd love to, but school.”

“Can't argue with that,” I mutter as I signal to merge lanes and pass the car going fifteen under the speed limit.

“This mean you're definitely going?”

“I dunno. Gotta figure out if my professors will allow it.”

She reaches over and turns on the radio. The guitars and drumline of Carrie Underwood’s “Blown Away” fills the car, and I lean back in my seat. Over the music, I barely hear Anna mutter something that sounds a lot like “I wouldn’t blame you if you never came back.”

Our mom was sitting on the back porch by the time I park in front of the garage. Anna scoffs and storms past her, and I watch as Mama’s face falls at my sister’s actions. She doesn’t say anything when I make my way to the deck, and I think maybe I’ll be home free until her fingers wrap around my wrist, and she pulls me to a halt.

“You know we’re not doing this to hurt you girls, right?”

“No, but I guess we’re just collateral damage.”

“Of course you’re not, DJ. Your father and I… we have tried so hard to make it work, we really did. We just couldn’t.”

“Why not?” I sit beside her, wrap my arms around my knees. “Twenty-three years can’t be that easy to throw away.”

“Oh, honey, it isn’t. Trust me, it isn’t. God knows we wanted to make our marriage work, at the very least so we didn’t have to hurt you. But, Deej, do you remember that line from that Tyler Perry movie? ‘Sometimes we try to hold onto things that God himself is trying to tear apart’? That’s how we feel. Honey, this was a long time coming, we just didn’t know it.”

“But how can you just _stop_ loving someone you’ve spent almost half your life with?”

Mama sighs, shrugging, and runs her hands through my hair. “Oh, I’ll never stop loving your father. After all, he gave me my two biggest blessings. But the love we had just… morphed into something else, something not quite suited for marriage. And this doesn’t mean that you’ll be losing either of us. Things are just a little different now, that’s all.”

I nod stiffly, dragging in a deep breath, before standing. She doesn’t stop me as I head inside. Anna’s voice drifts from the living room, and I know she’s probably talking to Carly, her best friend of fourteen years. I peek around the corner of the archway, and my heart sinks at the sight of her splotchy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. I sigh quietly and go to my room.

My phone is vibrating on the bedside table by the time I get down the stairs. I glance at the screen and ignore it when I see it's just Rachel. Talking to someone is at the very bottom of my list of things I enjoy at the moment; I flop backwards onto my bed then curl into a ball, closing my eyes against the stinging that precedes tears. It’s absolutely ridiculous that I'm reacting this way to the news of my parents’ divorce, but I just can't seem to find a way of making it stop. I let out a shuddering breath.

The melodious tones of the kitchen clock chiming midnight, muffled through the floor and insulation, meet my ears as I wake. My body aches all over from lying still so long, and I stretch out the tension and bunched muscles. A slow-blinking light comes from my right; I grab my phone and check the screen. Ten missed calls, nineteen texts, and six voicemails. Twelve of the texts were from Brianna, all variations of _Are you okay? Why aren't you answering?_, except in much more colourful language. Rachel has called seven times, my work the other three. Jena, Alberto, and Rod texted, and I know immediately that it can't be anything good if my coworkers went out of their way to send me a message. I doubt all three of them were asking me to cover a shift at the same time. My gut feeling turns out to be right; they were just trying to warn me. My heart plummets as I listen to the voicemails from my work. Though I've never missed a day and always picked up extra shifts during the year and a half that I worked at Cara Mia’s, my boss somehow found it necessary to fire me.

I throw my phone onto the bed, shift until my back is against the wall, and rest my forehead on my knees. A hollow nagging twisted in my stomach. Now what am I going to do? I've just lost my job, and everything at home has changed in less than a day. My head hits the wall with a thump, and I stare at the photographs pinned to the plaster - Brianna and I at the state fair, waiting for a vendor to hand us our elephant ears; us floating on the river the summer before we started our senior year, wine coolers in one hand and holding onto each other with the other; our first day of third grade, hugging one another in our matching outfits (we spent our childhoods claiming we were twins despise major physical differences). Everywhere I look, I see evidence of just how pervasive and integral Brianna has been in my life. She was always there for the big things, the small things, and everything in between.

I groan; I know she is going to be incredibly pissed off if she finds out I’ve kept something of this magnitude from her. Slowly, I lean over the edge of my mattress and grab my laptop off the floor. It boots up gradually, and I finally bring up an internet window. My fingers start typing into the search bar before my brain has the chance to stop them. I’ve made up my mind, and I am not going to overthink it.


	3. She’s Leaving Home (Bye-Bye)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _she's leaving home_, the beatles

I bite my lip as I pull my phone from my backpack. After it finally boots up, I quickly snap a picture and attach it to a new Kik message to Brianna, already regretting the massive roaming fees that will be on my bill. I hesitate, debate whether or not to actually send it. It’s just before four a.m. in London, so I’m not even sure if she’s awake yet. Finally, I just press the send button and hope I won’t regret it. I close out of the application and sit down in the nearest chair.

I zone out as I sit there watching people pass by. A child squalls somewhere nearby, but I fight the urge to look around. If a parent is having trouble with their kid, I’m certainly not going to make them uncomfortable by staring like a loon at them. Time seems to go slower the more I check the clock, but I can’t stop myself from continuously glancing down at the numbers on my screen. After what feels like forever, but is really only an hour, a loud voice breaks through the din of conversations taking place, and I rise to my feet, adjusting my backpack.

“Oh. My. God. DJ! What are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I could’ve been here before your flight landed so you weren’t stuck in the airport for so long. What’s going on? Tell me everything!”

I huff out a laugh at Brianna’s exuberance, slapping at her hand when she reaches for the bag on my back; she sticks her tongue out at me but grabs my suitcase instead. I numbly follow her out of the enormous building to an SUV idling by the curb. She doesn’t hesitate to open the back and toss my suitcase behind the seats. I climb into the second row of seating and buckle up as she closes the door behind her. The man sitting in the driver’s seat glances at us in the mirror.

“Ready?”

“Onward, my dear Paul.”

I pick at the skin around my thumb as he drives through the dark and empty streets. Bri stifles yawns repeatedly, but I can see just how exhausted she is. I wonder when she went to bed, but I don’t ask. The words feel frozen in my throat. Her lack of questions during the trip, though, is the biggest sign of how tired she is. The vehicle comes to a stop after twenty minutes of awkward, uncomfortable silence, and I peer through the tinted windows at the large house. It’s quite a bit larger than the one in which I grew up, and I bite back a manic giggle at the errant thought of getting lost inside. Paul holds the car door open for us and gets my luggage from the back. I start to protest when he heads up the sidewalk, but Brianna nudges me and shakes her head. So I follow Bri and Paul inside, and my best friend pushes open a door to what I presume is a guest bedroom.

“Sorry it isn’t much,” Bri says as I stand in the doorway, staring at the room beyond. “We didn’t know if you were actually going to come, so we left it pretty basic, just in case.”

“It’s fine, it’s great. Thanks. I, uh, I really appreciate it.”

“Get some sleep, Deej. We’ll talk in the morning.”

She closes the door behind her as she walks away, and I sit on the edge of the bed. The walls are pale green and bare of anything more than a painting of a sunny meadow. A dresser stands against the wall next to another door; the bookshelf to my left is already filled with books, the familiar spines of some of my favourite sagas mixed in with the lot. I toe off my beat-up sneakers, turn off the light, and, without bothering to get under the soft white comforter, I fall asleep.

Unfortunately, sleep doesn’t last long before the bad dreams get the best of me. Weak sunlight falls across my face through the blinds, and I bury my face into the pillow. It becomes evident that I won’t be falling asleep again, especially when my bladder decides to make its condition known, so I push myself into a sitting position. The angle of the light in the window tells me it's well into morning; the clock on my phone confirms it, alerting me in big white numbers that it's almost nine. I dig through my suitcase until I find a pair of faded blue jeans, a black scoop-neck shirt, and a white tank-top with lacy edging. Once dressed, I quickly run a brush through my hair and pull it back into a braid. Voices pass my door, but they are hushed almost instantly.

A loud buzzing echoes in the quiet, and I grab my phone before it can make it known that I'm awake. _Mama_. My heart aches something fierce when I imagine how my family reacted to finding me gone. As much as I want to answer it, to hear my mother’s voice, I can't. My cowardice only births guilt, so I put my phone on silent and slide it into my back pocket just as a knock sounds at the door. Brianna pokes her head into the room, smiling when she sees me standing there.

“Oh, you're awake! Breakfast?”

“Yeah, be there in a minute.”

“Take your time, Deej.”

My breath catches in my throat at the sound of the nickname. I force a smile at my best friend, keeping the strained grin on my face until she closes the door behind her; I cover my face with my hands, draw in steadying breaths until my world rights itself again. Since I know I can't hide in the room forever, especially not now that Bri’s seen me awake and dressed, I let out a weighted sigh and exit the room, follow the aroma of food down the hall to the kitchen. Two guys sit at the table, one engrossed in his phone and the other listening as Bri talks; another boy, this one with shockingly white-blond hair, rummages through the cupboards. A fourth is perched on the countertop, watching my best friend closely before stealing a slice of bacon from the dish beside him. Brianna flips a pancake onto the platter next to the stove and catches sight of me standing in the doorway.

“Morning, sleepy-buns.”

I give an awkward wave. “Hi.”

“Deej, these lovely boys are - oh, for fuck’s sake, Niall, sit down, your food is done! - Louis, Zayn, and Harry. That's Niall. Guys, this is DJ.”

“Uh, call me Koty,” I announce quietly.

Brianna raises an eyebrow but doesn't argue. Instead, she passes the plates to Louis who carries them to the table. “Go ahead, sit. If you don't hurry, the human garbage disposal will eat everything.”

Harry pulls out a chair next to him, smiling cheerily, and I take a seat after a moment of hesitation. Everyone launches into chatter as they grab food, forks clinking as they fight over who gets which pancake; someone yelps when their hand gets smacked away from the bacon. As much as I absolutely adore Ian’s accent in _What a Girl Wants_, it's different actually hearing the accents in person, harder to understand when there are a multitude of different accents blending together in a cacophony of noise. Anna would have loved to be here, and she definitely would not have hesitated to join in on the conversation.

A pang rips through my chest as I think of my little sister. I push my plate away though most of my breakfast is untouched. I'm no longer hungry. Harry notices, leans closer to speak without the others overhearing.

“Something the matter?”

“Nah. Just… just lost my appetite.”

Louis steals the bacon off my plate with a wink. It takes more effort than I thought possible to manipulate my lips into a smile; I rise to my feet, thank Brianna for breakfast, and hurry back to the room I've been given. A chair scrapes against the floor and footsteps follow me, but I ignore it, press on up the stairs. I don’t bother closing the door behind me as I fall face-first onto the bed. Someone’s hand begins rubbing my back seconds later.

“I’m here if you wanna talk, hun.”

“Bri, I just left them,” I mutter into the pillow. “I didn’t even bother telling them I was leaving. I just checked visa requirements, borrow money from Daddy, packed, booked a flight, and left.”

“Did you at least leave a note?” she asks quietly a few minutes later.

_My suitcase sat by my feet as I stood at the counter in the kitchen. The clock on the wall ticks away the seconds, the hand inching closer to the hour. My hands trembled, but I knew I had to do this. I had to go. The pen hits the countertop with a clatter that sounds extraordinarily loud in the deafening silence, and I re-read what I’d written._

_“Mama and Banana -_

_I’m so sorry for this. I know there weren’t any warnings, no heads-up that this was happening. And I’m sorry. But this is something I have to do. I know it doesn’t make sense, I can’t even explain it to myself - I just know I have to get away. I promise I don’t want to hurt you. God, I sound like you, Mama… _

_Mama, could you take Anna to get my car from the airport? Row 15, spot 31. Banana, the spare key is in your jewelry box. The car’s yours. Keys are under the backseat. _

_I love you both so much. Tell Daddy I'm sorry, and that I love him, too. _

_Love, DJ.”_

_I grabbed my keys and carried my luggage through the house, opening the door as silently as I can. The thud of the trunk closing echoed in the quiet of the night, and I took one last look at the house I’d grown up in. The outside was faded, aged from years of withstanding weather, and the trees that surrounded our yard loomed, dark shadows against an even darker expanse of sky. I used to be so terrified of the woods that fenced in our plot of land, but… it was home. The only one I’d ever known. I sighed, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the car. It was time to make a difference in my life, one that I alone chose._

“They’ll understand.”

“How? I can’t even explain it to myself.”

“Because you don’t want to think about it.” She sighs, scratching at my scalp gently. “Look, stop worrying so much. Skype with them later or something. Talk to them.”

I exhale heavily and turn my head to look at her. “Yeah, I probably should.”

Brianna grabs my laptop from my bookbag and inputs the PIN with ease. I huff out a laugh; of course she still remembers the number I always use. The sound of the keys clacking as she types is all I hear for a long minute, then she passes the computer over. Patting my shoulder gently, she stands and leaves the room. A giggle escapes when I see the Sticky Note app up on the screen with the words _WiFi name and password: Louisisasexybitch_. I log into the WiFi and bring up Skype. As I hover over my sister’s name, trying to mentally calculate the time difference, a bubble pops up on the screen. I click the button to answer with video.

“What the Hell were you thinking?”

“I'm sorry, Anna. I really am.”

She sighs, turning her face away from the camera. “Where are you?”

“I, uh, I came to visit Bri.”

“Then why couldn’t you have told us in the note you left? Y’know, the one you apparently thought would be sufficient enough for us to be happy with you having suddenly upped and ran? And I don’t care how much you say you didn’t want to hurt us, you could have given us the chance to say goodbye. But _no_, you were too damn selfish to give us that.”

“Anna -”

“Look, I’ve gotta go to bed. I haven’t slept in two days. Try to call Mama or something, I’m tired of hearing her cry constantly.”

Before I can respond, she ends the call. I hurriedly wipe my cheeks to destroy the evidence that I’ve been crying. I watch as the dot next to Anna’s name goes grey; my breath comes out in a shuddering gust, and I decide that being alone is an awful idea. The sound of the television alerts me to where everyone else is. Brianna looks up at me when I walk into the living room, and her expression says clearly that she isn’t convinced by the fake smile I wear. I swallow thickly and find a seat next to Zayn on the loveseat. Niall grins up at me from his spot on the floor, and I can’t help myself - I give him an honest smile. The weight of Bri’s scrutinising stare is palpable even as I force myself to focus on the show. Though I have no idea what it’s called, it isn’t long before I start to enjoy it. It’s almost impossible to find something wrong with the premise of two brothers travelling the US to hunt supernatural creatures; it’s actually rather entertaining. Once the episode ends, Bri pushes herself to her feet and snaps to get my attention.

“Hey, come help get lunch started.” She turns to face me as soon as we’re out of earshot of the others. “What’s going on? Like, why did you leave? I didn’t wanna ask earlier because you were so upset, but…”

I sigh, twist the end of my braid around my fingers. “Mama and Daddy are getting divorced.”

“_What_?” she whispers, eyes wide and jaw dropped.

“Yeah. Found out a few days ago.”

“Oh, wow.” Bri reaches for a pan from the rack above the counter, a sure sign that she has no idea of what to say - when she’s at a loss of words, she occupies herself with something unrelated. “Well, you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

“Thanks, bitch. Uh, can I help with anything?”

“Nope, I got this,” she responds quickly.

“I can cook now, ya know.”

“Oh, so you haven’t burnt down half a kitchen recently?”

I let out a loud groan, flinging my hands into the air. “That was _one time_, and I was drunk!”

Her laugh follows me down the hallway as I make my way back to the living room. She loves to remind me of the fire I accidentally started in an abandoned cabin years ago; we’d run away from her house one night when we were sixteen, after her parents had been screaming at each other for hours, and stumbled across the rundown home in the middle of the woods. She’d managed to steal a few jars of moonshine from her neighbour a couple of weeks prior, and we barely managed to get through half a pint before we were tipsy. When she said she was hungry, I’d done what I thought was the smartest thing and went to pick dandelions and grab broken sticks off the ground. I’d unfortunately forgotten to close the door to the old wood stove after the fire was finally lit and had picked up intensity, and a flame had leapt from the stove’s belly and onto the dried dandelions on the floor. Somehow, we got the small blaze put out, but we were much more sober for the next hour or two - until Brianna had begun crying about the evening’s events at her house. Then we finished the remainder of the homemade liquor and sang to the moon the drunker we got.

“What’s got you so happy?” asks Zayn once I sit beside him again.

“Just rememberin’ the good times with Bri.”

Louis turns his head toward me, eyes half-closed and a quirk to his lips. “How long are you planning on staying?”

“I… don’t really know.”

“No worries. Just let us know if you want to leave, yeah?”

Brianna calls us all into the kitchen twenty minutes later, and I bite back a smile at the sight of pasta in alfredo sauce and deli-meat sandwiches. We all take our seats at the table, and I end up beside Harry for the second time in a row. He grins cheekily at me but doesn’t say anything; I wait until everyone else has gotten their portions before reaching for the serving spoon. The silence between us is interrupted only by the sounds of silverware against the bowls. Then, Louis decides that quiet is unnecessary.

“So, Koty, tell us about yourself.”

I nearly choke on the bite in my mouth, and my cheeks heat up as everyone looks at me. Swallowing, I cough quietly. “Uh, what do you want to know?”

“I don’t know, anything.”

Brianna looks like she wants to say something. I catch her eye, hope my psychic powers have gotten better by magic and that she’ll hear my mental pleas to save me. Unfortunately for me, I’m not a psychic, and she doesn’t speak. I sigh. Louis’s eyes are bright in the sunlight streaming through the window, the smile on his face friendly and open. I draw in a steadying breath.

“Um, well. My name is Dakota - or Koty. I’m twenty-one. I was going to school to be a nurse, but I’m on leave for a bit. I’m from a really small town that I’m not even sure is labelled on a map, same place as Bri, since we’ve known each other for most of our lives. I like reading. I’m… not very open most of the time, and I prefer to stay to myself. And right now, I feel awkward as Hell saying all this, so someone stop me, please. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous, and I find it very difficult to stop myself. I hate -”

Harry’s hand over my mouth prevents me from babbling any longer. I slump in relief when the stream of words abruptly ceases; once he pulls his hand away, I flash him a grateful smile and mouth _thank you_. Zayn has one eyebrow raised as he stares at me. Niall bites his lip in an effort to stifle the laugh I can see him struggling against. Only Brianna appears unsurprised by my long-winded monologue. Harry laughs first, and the other three join in shortly after. I duck my head in embarrassment, but I don’t mind that they’re laughing at me - it isn’t malicious, it’s actually very understandable. The amiable atmosphere is ruined by Louis’s next request:

“Tell us about your family.”


	4. Make a Change, and Breakaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _breakaway_, kelly clarkson

I freeze, stare at the bowl of pasta in front of me. The silence in the room weighs heavily on my shoulders, and my heartbeat pounds in my ears. My chest aches as Louis’s words echo in my brain. Luckily enough for me, Brianna takes mercy on me and clears her throat.

“That’s enough, guys. Koty will be here for a while, so that’s plenty of time to get to know her.”

The boys seem to accept this, and someone starts a new conversation. I don’t pay attention to what’s being said, too intent on finishing the meal. Brianna protests, albeit halfheartedly, when I gather up the dirty dishes and carry them to the sink. I roll my eyes; she's forgetting that I've known her long enough to never believe that she would honestly have a problem with me doing clean-up. She's always hated to clean after cooking. Niall appears at my side, sleeves of his sweater pulled up to his elbows. The others head to the living room while we wash, dry, and put away the dishes in a comfortable quiet.

I've just finished sending a response to one of my professors back home when a knock sounds on my bedroom door. I look away from the screen and rub my eyes, blinking owlishly at Louis. He grins and holds up a gift-wrapped box. My head cocks to the side.

“Mind if I come in?”

“Yeah, go ahead. What's up?”

“This is for you.”

I take the box hesitantly. “Uh, okay. What is it?”

“Just opens it and find out!” he says with a laugh as he plops down on the edge of the bed.

“Why, why are you giving me a phone?”

He shrugs. “Because the mobile you have is set for the United States. This way, if you decide to go out, you'll be able to contact any one of us without international charges. Everyone's number is already in there, including Paul’s.”

“Thanks, I guess. No. I mean it. Thanks. I do appreciate it. Has Bri ever mentioned I'm awful with accepting, well, anything?” A thought occurs to me, and I glance up at him. “Wait. If you're famous, how can you get a cell phone without people getting your number?”

“He has a fantastic French accent,” Brianna announces from the doorway. “He’s Henri DuFort, and I am Chantal Boudreaux.”

I chuckle softly, turning the box over in my hands. “I guess if it works…”

Brianna kisses my hair and pulls Louis from the room, leaving me alone with my new phone. It's easily a step up from the one I've had for the last four years. For the next hour or so, I check out every feature of the phone; there are phone numbers in the contact list, true to Louis's word, but the Name boxes were just emojis, and there were eight numbers instead of the six I was expecting. I stare at the symbols, trying to decipher them. The only ones I’m pretty sure of are the bomb and explosion (Brianna), the man lifting weights (probably Paul’s), and the chipmunk and four-leaf clover (Niall), but the other five, I have no idea. I come to the conclusion that I’ll just have to get to know the guys better if I want to figure out who’s who. A pop comes from my laptop, and I lean over to see who has sent me a message.

**Jacob says:** _hey dj where u been_

**DJ says:** _Hey, J! Kind of family emergency. How’s school going? Have I missed much?_

**Jacob says:** _oh im sorry to hear that_  
**Jacob says:** _not really u still trying to keep up with classes?_

**DJ says:** _Absolutely! I still wanna graduate even tho I can’t be there right now. Don’t wanna be a waitress for the rest of my life lol_

**Jacob says:** _when u gonna be back?_

**DJ says:** _No idea, honestly. Why?_

**Jacob says:** _no reason_  
**Jacob says:** _gotta go. dad needs help in the shop_

He logs off before I can respond, and I stare at the screen in confusion before shrugging it off. Unlocking my new phone, I open the messaging program and compose a new text.

_Hey, what are you up to?_

_Is this Koty?_

_Indeed it is. Uh. Quick question. Who is this?_

_??????_

_Louis gave me a new phone but set everybody's name as emojis so I have no idea who is who. _

_What does he have me as?_

_A mushroom and music notes…_

_I guess it's not as bad as it could be._

_That doesn't answer my question! lol_

_Sorry! It's Harry. _

I laugh quietly as I change his contact information, then send back _Thanks_ followed by _So what are you up to?_

**From: Harry** _Not up to much, sitting around my flat bored out of my mind. You?_

**To: Harry** _Basically the same thing, except just in my room. Waiting for my professor to email me back. They never responded before I left about whether it’s okay that I correspond via email for the rest of the term._

**From: Harry** _Well, I know of a perfect way to get us both less bored._

**To: Harry** _Yeah? What’s that?_

**From: Harry** _Would you want to go bowling tonight?_

I hesitate and re-read his message a few times over. I know next to nothing about Harry, besides the fact that he’s in a rather famous boy-band and the random tidbits of information that Brianna has mentioned over the last eight months of her being friends with the guys. It honestly feels weird with him asking me out, even if it’s not a date, after having just met him this morning. My phone vibrates again.

**From: Harry** _It won’t be just us. It’s a thing we all do as a group every couple of weeks._

The awkward tightness in my chest loosens, and I send back a text agreeing to go. That’s why Brianna finds me not even thirty minutes later. She watches as I dump my suitcase out onto the floor and dig through the pile of clothes I’ve brought. Finally, I look at her over my shoulder, sighing at the amused smile on her face. Her head is cocked to her side, and she leans against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest.

“_What_ are you doing?”

“I, uh, I can’t find anything to wear.”

“You realise tonight isn’t a date by any means, right? You don’t have to impress anyone, Koty.”

The flat tone in her voice when she says my name causes me to stop sifting through the numerous jeans on the floor. Her entertained expression is gone, replaced by a confused - almost bitter - one. Her brows pull tight over her eyes. I sit back on my heels and stare down at my hands.

“Bri…”

“Look, all I wanna know is why. Why are you trying to be someone you’re not?”

“I’m _not_. I’m just… I just want a new start, even for a little bit. I want to explore what life outside of Tennessee is like, and I can’t do that if I’m exactly the same as I was when I left. I want excitement, I want life. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with reinventing myself while I’m here.”

“I guess you’re right.” She exhales sharply and claps her hands. “All right. Now, you’re not going to find anything comfy yet stylish in that stuff. Let’s go shopping.”

“I ain’t got any money, Bri.”

“Louis and I do.”

“’Louis and I’?” I echo with a wide grin, and she waves a hand at me.

“Not together! Jeez. I meant, he won’t mind letting you borrow one of his cards or something. Or we could use _my_ bank account. Either way, we’re getting you clothes.”

“Okay, but I don’t have the money to pay either of you back.”

She lets out an inelegant, unladylike snort. “Think we care? Come on, just accept.”

“Fine. But only one outfit.”

_One outfit_ somehow turns into five: two pairs of skinny jeans, a plaid pleated skirt, dark-wash flared jeans, and a pair of stretchy grey yoga pants; seven tank-tops: two white, two black, one grey, and one pale blue; and a couple of shirts in a variety of styles. I have to admit, I still feel guilty about accepting the bags of clothing, but that guilt isn’t nearly as overwhelming as I anticipated. We make our way back to the house, stopping by a Starbucks on the way for iced coffees. Once we’re in my room again, Brianna digs through the bags until she comes up with a bright yellow T-shirt with the silhouette of a giraffe on it. She tosses the shirt, black skinny jeans, and a pair of flats (that I didn’t even know she purchased) at me and flops onto the bed. I change into the outfit she’s chosen while she scrolls through whatever social media on her phone.

Niall waves excitedly at me as Brianna pushes me into the backseat of the SUV. I smile back, but I’m more focused on the nervousness that’s suddenly sprouted into life and is threatening to swallow me whole. Why the Hell am I so anxious? Bri made a valid point - this is most definitely _not_ a date. It’s just me getting to know and making new friends. I breathe in deeply, hoping to calm my nerves. The music that pumps through the speakers is catchy, upbeat; I close my eyes and try to concentrate on the beat instead of how I really, really want to throw up. Eventually, Paul slows to a stop outside of a large building, and Bri squeals before shoving the door open. Louis gestures for me to exit the vehicle first, and my best friend latches onto my hand, tries to skip toward the entrance. She pouts when my sedate pace prevents her from going any faster. With a sigh of acceptance, she slows down and walks beside me, her mouth going a mile a minute as she chats over our shoulders with Louis and Niall.

Harry and Zayn are sitting at a table down near the opposite end of the bowling alley. Harry sees us first, standing and waving, and Brianna releases me to run down the length of the building with Louis to join the others. Paul asks me what size shoe I wear then heads to the counter to get them, and Niall leads me toward the group; it isn’t until he sits upright from lacing up his shoes that I even notice the third person at the table, and I nearly trip over my feet at the sight. He is, and there’s no other way to put it, incredibly beautiful. My breath immediately catches in my throat when he glances in my direction. I lose myself in the deep brown of his eyes, something in my gut tightening at how quickly my brain starts screaming _holy shit I want_.


	5. Don't Let Them Win

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _don't dream it's over_, crowded house

I can’t seem to look away from the guy even as the others chat loudly over each other. Someone nudges into my shoulder, and I blink rapidly, ripping my gaze to the left. Paul gives me a knowing smile and passes over the shoes he’s rented for me. I sit next to Harry on the bench, take the socks that Brianna tosses to me, and switch out my flats for the bowling shoes. Niall leaps onto the guy’s back, ruffling his hair.

“Liam! You’re alive!”

_Liam_. The name suits him. Harry pats my knee and stands, and I check my phone one last time before pushing to my feet; I slide the device into my back pocket. I jump when I see how close Liam’s gotten in just a few short minutes. _ Good Lord, he smells amazing, _ I think when the scent of whatever cologne he uses fills the air between us. I draw in a shallow breath, just enough to smell that aroma once more; thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice. He merely holds out his hand with a friendly smile on his face.

“Hi, I’m Liam.”

“Koty. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too. What brings you to London? Bri told us you weren’t sure if you were coming.”

My throat goes dry, but I manage to mumble out, “I’d rather not talk about it,” just as Louis claps his hands.

“All right. Once Olly gets here, we’re going to split into two teams - Bri already has them chosen, so don’t try to make your own, _ Zayn _. Then, one team goes on lane four, the other on lane five. Obviously, whichever team has the highest total score wins.”

Brianna grins at Liam’s groan, cackling maniacally as she turns back to the computer. “Oh, yes, Lima Bean, we’re getting competitive. Just a second, and I’ll finish putting the teams on the screen.”

I pick at my nails while she types in the teams, and the conversations around me pick up in volume. When Bri steps back, I look up at the monitor. 

**Lane 4** **Lane 5**  
LouLou Brianna  
Olly Lima  
Niall Zayn  
Koty Harry

I poke Niall in the side to get his attention, and he follows my gaze to the screen. He gives me a high-five and cheers, raising his arms in the air. I can’t help the grin that splits my face; something about his enthusiasm is entirely too contagious. I drift away from the group, ostensibly to find a ball but mostly because there is just so much noise. A raucous shouting sounds from our tables, and I turn to see a young woman about our age strutting her way toward us. Her dark hair has been pulled into dozens of thin braids, and even from this far away, I can see the mischievous smirk that tugs at her lips. One look at her screams that she is the epitome of “life of the party.” I grab a plain navy-blue ball and head back to the tables just as the girl comes to a stop.

“Heya, boys, Bri. How ya doin’?”

“I’m good. Oh! Olly, meet Koty. Koty, this is Dahlia.”

“Call me Olly,” she announces with a small flick of her fingers from her eyebrow, and she gives me a sweet smile. “Anything but, and I’ll kill you with a spoon.”

My eyes widen, but she pivots on her heel to find a seat between Louis and Niall. It seems to take no time at all before it’s my turn; my team is already behind by eight pins, and I have very little faith in my abilities to actually bowl a good game. Harry steps up to the line next to me and lets his ball roll down the lane. One pin falls on its lonesome, sending the ball gradually into the gutter. I stifle a snort and drag in a deep breath. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I release my ball toward the pins. To my utter amazement, all ten hit the wood with a resounding clatter. I’ve gotten my very first strike. I clap my hands over my mouth, bouncing on my tiptoes. Harry shoves at my shoulder and crosses his eyes, pretends to cry. I stick my tongue out in response.

Eventually, thanks to my best friend and Harry, I actually begin to have fun. Something about Olly still intimidates me, but even she became relatively easy to get along with - as long as I don’t converse with her. Midnight rolls around, and though we all protest as vocally as we can, Paul still wrangles us out to the parking lot, reminding us every step of the way of the fact that the boys have to wake up early to be in the studio. Olly rides with Niall and Harry in Zayn’s car, since her apartment is nearest them. Liam announces he’s going to be staying at Louis and Bri’s, says it will be “easier to make sure Louis gets his lazy arse up and out of the house on time”, and climbs into the backseat next to me, Brianna on his other side, while Louis sits in the front passenger seat. The ride to the house is silent except for Paul humming along to the song on the radio, and I can feel the heat from Liam’s body so close to mine. My heart races the entire time; I clench my hands into fists when I realise how damp they are. I breathe unsteadily, overwhelmed in the best ways by the scent of his cologne less than three inches from me. 

I’ve never been more thankful to be out of a car than when Paul finally parks out front of the house, and that’s including the time I was stuck on a broken-down bus on the way back from the amusement park at the end of eighth grade. I say goodnight to the other three as quickly yet normally as I can then hurry to my room. After changing into a long baggy T-shirt and brushing out my hair, I sit on my bed and grab my laptop, setting it on my thighs. My FaceBook newsfeed is mainly political statements and cute but fake “faith in humanity restored” stories, the occasional recipe video. I post a quick status of _ 74 ain’t so bad! _ before logging into Skype. Hopefully, Anna is on. Someone somewhere heard my prayers - her name has a green dot next to it.

“What do you want?” she snaps as soon as the video connects.

“Hey, uh, where’s Mama?”

“Probably watching the news or one of her shows. You’d know if you were here.”

“Can you please just go get her?”

She rolls her eyes but disappears from the frame. A few minutes later, Mama’s face is right in front of me; I touch the screen gently, though I know she can’t feel me, and tears blur my vision. Her fingers are trembling as she covers her mouth. 

“Oh, DJ, I’ve missed you so much, baby girl.”

“I miss you, too, Mama. I’m so sorry that I left like I did.”

“No, don’t apologise, hun. I understand. I… I had a feeling you’d go see Brianna soon anyway.” She exhales softly. “I just wish you’d let us say goodbye.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I didn’t exactly think it through. Anna’s made sure I knew how selfish I’d been.”

“Your sister’s just hurt right now -”

“And so unbelievably angry!” Anna’s voice cuts in from the background, and my mom rolls her eyes, waves a hand.

“I forgive you, darling, and I’m sure Anna will, too, once she’s done with the temper tantrum she’s throwing.”

"_Mama_!” 

My mother laughs, and my heart clenches at the sound. “Oh, calm down, Banana, I’m just pickin’. All right, get some sleep, honey. You look exhausted.”

“I am,” I admit, shrugging sheepishly. “We went bowling tonight. I got a strike and five spares, so our team won, though Bri’s score alone beat mine by four pins.”

“That’s wonderful, honey. Goodnight, I love you.”

“Love you, too, Mama. And you, Anna Banana!”

My sister grimaces from behind my mom at the terrible nickname but replies nonetheless with a sullen _I love you, too, jerk_. I log off, feeling more at peace with my decision than I have since I arrived in London. I set the laptop aside, crawl under the blankets, and curl up on my side. I manage to fall asleep rather quickly.

When I wake, the house is silent, and the sky outside the window is dark grey. I roll over and check the time on my phone; it’s just after 10:30. The guys must be at the studio, which explains why I don’t hear their voices, but where is Brianna? I look at my phone screen again and see the notifications of unread messages.

**From: Briannnaaa** _ Hey boo. Had to work today. Lame, I know. I’ll be back shortly after three. Don’t miss me too much!! Mwah! _

**From: Harry ** _ I wish you could have come today. :( Bri said you’ve never experienced something like this. It’s pretty awesome, but it would be cooler if you were here._  
**From: Harry ** _ I miss you already and barely know you! What are you up to?_  
**From: Harry ** _ Wake uuuuuuuuuuuuupppppppppp  
_**From: Harry ** _ Kotyyyyy, please wake up and talk to me. I’m bored! _

I laugh, shaking my head, and send back _ Dude, chill. I’m up now_. My stomach lets out a loud gurgling noise, and I shove back the comforter, stretch out my muscles, and pad to the kitchen. The fridge and cabinets are well-stocked, so many choices to make, but nothing really sounds good; most of the breakfast-related variety required more than a microwave or toaster. I settle on toast with a banana, grapes, and a glass of orange juice. Harry’s responding text comes in while I’m eating.

**From: Harry ** _ Finally! You took forever! _

**To: Harry ** _ It was only an hour and a half. Who the hell gets up at 8:30 anyway?? _

**From: Harry ** _ International popstars who are busy making a new album for their fans. DUH! _

My brain immediately conjures up memories of his cheeky grin at that message, and I can’t help but smile. We spend the morning texting about random things whenever he has time; Bri sends a couple messages checking in on me. It isn’t until Anna messages me on FaceBook that the homesickness sets in. I almost forgot I’m in an entirely different country, separated from my family by a nine-hour flight. 

  


I’m too engrossed in the television to pay attention to the time, but Brianna’s presence in the doorway to the living room is hard to miss. Her laughter rings out, loud and clear and bright, and I twitch violently, sliding right off the sofa, and bang my head on the floor. She doubles over as she laughs even harder. I rub my hand over my head and groan. 

“Did you have to scare me?” I whine.

“What the everloving Hell are you doing?” 

“Watching _ Who Framed Roger Rabbit?_, thank you very much.”

“Upside down?”

“Don’t judge me, you horrible woman.”

“I do what I want. Deal with it.”

“Bitch.” I sit up, crossing my legs. She flops down onto the couch, and I turn my head to look at her. “How was work?”

“It was work.”

“That bad?”

“I’m just… so ridiculously tired of all the questions about Louis and the guys. Like, I work at a music shop because I love music, not so I can gossip and tell everything about my friends.”

I nod slowly, chewing on my lower lip as I think. “Okay. So, what _ is _going on between you and Louis? As your best friend, I reserve the right to ask and deserve an honest answer.”

“Trust me, I wish I knew,” she whispers and moves to stare out the window. “I mean, sometimes… sometimes I think he wants more than this, whatever we’ve got. But other times, he seems content with the whole thing of constantly flirting with each other and dropping hints but never doing anything about it, and it’s - God, Deej, it’s incredibly fucking confusing.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

“Yeah. Well, I’ve _ tried_, but I always chicken out. Why ruin something good, right?”

“Because you’re not happy. I can look at you once and see that. Maybe you’ve accepted it, but that’s only because it keeps Louis in your life. But girl, you need to figure out if it’s worth being unhappy.”

She sighs and shrugs, and we fall silent for a long while. A car door slams outside in the driveway, and Brianna tenses up. Louis’s voice echoes through the foyer; I exchange a look with Bri at how furious he sounds. Her mouth opens then closes without a word. From the kitchen comes the telltale clatter of a phone hitting the wall and skidding across the tile floor. I follow Bri down the hall, rounding the corner to see Louis clutching the counter so tightly that his knuckles are white, shoulders heaving with his breathing. My best friend reaches out to touch his arm.

“Lou? What happened?”

“Fucking management is what happened!” he explodes, turning abruptly on his heel. “They found out you live here and are now on my case to make you move out. Apparently it’s not good for my image to have a female best friend living with me.”

Bri winces, inhales sharply when Louis shoves her hand away as she tries to comfort him. “Okay. Well, tell them to give me a few days.”

“For _ what_?” he snaps, finally looking at Bri for the first time since we came into the kitchen.

“So I can find a place to live.”

“Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere. Neither is Koty. Who gives a damn about my ‘image’,” he spits the word as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “It’s not like anything is going on between us. They can piss off.”

“That’s just it. Maybe it’d be best if I _ did _move out.”

I avoid looking at Brianna, who is on the verge of tears, and Louis, who is staring at her warily, like he know he’s not going to like what she has to say. My skin is hot at the awkwardness and how uncomfortable I am. Eventually, Louis opens his mouth.

“What do you mean?”


	6. She Was Cryin' on My Shoulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _don't_, ed sheeran

Louis cocks his head the longer Brianna stays silent, and his blue eyes are narrow in his confusion. His arms hang loosely at his side; in the moment, he looks an awful lot like a puppy who has been scolded and doesn’t know why. As Bri draws in a shaky breath, she glances at me from the corner of her eye. I back slowly out of the kitchen, putting my hand out behind me to prevent me from running into something. This is something I don’t want to get in the middle of. Unfortunately, I don’t get very far up the stairs before the voices in the kitchen rise in volume. I run up the rest of the staircase, not even bothering staying quiet, and hurry to my room. I’m disappointed to realise that music does little to drown out the sounds coming from downstairs, but I try my best to focus on the lyrics and not the fact that my best friend is unbelievably upset and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. My phone buzzes in my back pocket.

**From: Harry** _Hey there._  
**From: Harry** _How’s it going?_

**To: Harry** _Good, I suppose. You?_

**From: Harry** _Honestly? I’m bored. Mind numbingly bored. Can’t be fussed to find anything to do, either._

**To: Harry** _Sounds about right, yeah. :p_

**From: Harry** _At least you have Brianna to keep you company_

**To: Harry** _Not really. She’s a bit… preoccupied at the moment._

**From: Harry** _Oh… Do I want to know?_

**To: Harry** _Probably not lol_

**From: Harry** _You coming to the studio tomorrow?_

I bite my lip and stare down at the message. Though I’ve been asked a few times to join them at the studio while they record their album, I haven’t ever felt comfortable enough to accept; what if they’re only asking to be polite? I chew at the edge of my thumbnail and type out a response one-handed.

**To: Harry** _Maybe? Do you want me to? For real?_

**From: Harry** _Of course I do! I think it’ll be fun. Plus, you can tell us if we should quit the band_

**To: Harry** _I guess I’ll see you then._

Harry’s responding text is full of smiley emojis. My fingers pause in the process of replying when I notice the house has fallen silent. I turn off my music, creeping out of my room and down the hall. My heart breaks once I enter the kitchen.

**[Harry’s POV]**  
I smile widely when I read Koty’s message, doing an awkward fist-bump in my happiness. Though we don’t know her very well, she seems like a great person. She is a lot more reserved than Brianna, talks less, which makes me wonder how they even became friends in the first place, but there is something in her eyes , something she's guarding with all of her might. The voice in my head says I need to figure it out and help her. It’s unexpected, really, that I'm so protective of her, considering we’re nearly the same age, but it isn't hard to figure out why - she comes across as much more delicate. 

I sigh, letting my phone drop to the cushion beside me. I don't fancy Koty, but I know the others will think I do if I mention anything about what I'm feeling toward her. Liam suddenly appears in the doorway to the living room, taps on the arch. 

“Oi. You heard from Lou?” He frowns when I shake my head. “Odd. I tried messaging him shortly after we got here to ask if I could stay round at his again, but he hasn't answered.”

“Maybe he and Bri are doing something,” I suggest, remembering how Koty said Brianna was preoccupied. 

“Hm. Maybe.”

He gives me a smile and walks away. I turn my attention back to the television only to look away when my phone beeps.

**From: Brianna** _Mind if I come over? I need out of here_

**To: Brianna** _Sure. What’s going on?_

**From: Brianna** _I’ll be there soon_

The shortness of her response is disconcerting. Brianna rarely ever sends such concise text messages. My puzzlement only grows when the front door opens and she steps in carrying a gym bag; her eyes are red and swollen, tear tracks dried on her splotchy cheeks. In her apparent rush to leave the house she shares with Louis, she didn’t bother - or care enough - to put on matching shoes. One foot is encased in a ballet flat, the other in a trainer. I stand and immediately wrap my arms around her tightly, and she begins crying within seconds.

“Oh, love, what happened?”

She shakes her head, and I stifle a sigh but lead her to my bedroom, hoping neither Zayn nor Liam has seen her in her current state. Bri is one of the funniest, toughest, most solid girl we know; she never bat an eyelash when she met Paul - and he is incredibly intimidating on a good day! So I know she’ll never forgive herself if anyone else is witness to this side of her. I close the door quietly behind us, take her bag from her, and toss it toward the bed. She leans against my chest again.

“Bri, can you tell me what’s going on? You’ll have to speak louder than that, love, if you expect me to hear you,” I murmur into her ear after she whispers something inaudibly.

She finally pulls away, scrubbing a hand over her face. “I don’t wanna talk about it. Not right now. Can I stay here for a couple days?”

“Sure, not a problem.”

Brianna nods slowly, turns away. I tuck her into bed, making sure the duvet is pulled up to her chin. Her breath shudders as I exit the room. Grabbing my phone off the couch, I make my way to the kitchen to put some tea on. There are a couple of new text messages waiting.

**From: Dakotaaa** _Is Brianna there with you???_  
**From: Dakotaaa** _Haz? Please tell me she’s there._

**To: Dakotaaa** _Yeah, she showed up about 15 minutes ago. Do you know what the bloody hell is going on?!_

Brianna is fast asleep, her tea half-empty and cooling rapidly, by the time Koty messages back with one word: _No_.


	7. I Really Really Don’t Like You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _hate (i really don't like you)_ plain white t's

I debate for nearly half an hour about how to answer Harry’s text. On one hand, I could tell him so he has a way of helping Brianna - and by extension, Louis - through whatever this mess is. But, on the other… I know Bri, probably better than anyone else in the entire world. She wouldn’t want anyone to know how much turmoil she's in; she has always put a brave face on, hid away from the truth until she could be alone, and pretended like everything is fine. If I tell Harry what's going on and she finds out, she would seriously consider murdering me. I finally settle on a lie.

**To: Harry** _No. _

I look away from my phone and withhold a sigh at the sight of Louis. His cheek is pressed against the tabletop, blue eyes dark with confusion and pain. I have no idea what was said between him and my best friend, but my heart breaks a little for him. He keeps muttering _I just don't understand_ \- nothing else, just those four words. I reach out, touch his shoulder gently. He doesn't move.

“Lou… wanna tell me what happened?”

“She yelled at me,” he whispers without lifting his head. “She told me she was leaving for a few days until I figured it out. I tried asking what she meant, but sh-she just went to her room and packed a bag. Koty, you're her best friend, she probably told you! What did she mean?”

I hate the fact that I'm about to destroy the hopeful expression that has appeared on his face as he looks at me for the first time since I sat down. I inhale slowly and keep my voice gentle as I say, “Even if I knew, Louis, I couldn't tell you. She needs _you_ to figure it out. She won't accept it if someone tells you.”

His shoulders slump, and his head falls back to the table with a loud thump. It isn't until his shoulders start shaking that I realise he's begun to cry. I bite my lip and look toward the doorway, unsure of what I should do. Does he want to be alone? Does he want me to stay? Hesitating for a moment, I stand and move away from the chair, but his hand wraps around mine.

“Please stay. I can't stand to be by myself.”

“But… is it that you'll accept anyone's company right now? Or are you wanting a specific person?”

_Please please please understand what I'm trying to say_, I plea silently; his grip loosens at my question, and I make my way out of the room. The quietness of the house is surprising. There hasn't been much silence since I arrived, too many people and too much laughing for that. Even when no one speaks while here, the television is usually on or music is thundering from someone's phone. I close the bedroom door and sit in the armchair by the window. There's no sunshine today, but that's okay - the grey sky and puddles on the ground are good enough. My phone buzzes in my hand, and I glance down to see a new Kik message.

**From: bananna** _Hey. It's me. Your sister. Anna. God this is awkward. Sorry. I just wanted to let you know that I'm not mad at you any more. I mean, I'm still so unbelievably annoyed that you left without telling us, but… I know the divorce is what made you leave. I know you just needed something new. It may be another drastic change in your life, but at least you can control this one, right? :) I do love you and I hope you're having the time of your life over there. Give Brianna hugs from Mama and me. I miss her crazy self :P love you a million pink Starbursts._

By the time I reach the end of the message, I'm in tears. My sister, who hasn't yet reached legal adulthood, somehow has managed to put my reasoning into words - something I haven't really been able to do or admit to myself. I sniffle and scrub the sleeve of my shirt over my eyes, then type back a reply.

**To: bananna** _You have no idea how great it is to hear you say that. Or rather, read your words. I love you, too. I'm sorry that you got hurt by my decision. It really wasn't my intention, and I will feel awful about that until the day I die. I really wish you could have come with me. You would love the guys Bri’s friends with. They all seem awesome, but Harry is probably the one I'm closest to so far. Tell Mama I love and miss her. Have you heard from Daddy lately? I love youuuuu a million strawberry Twizzlers._

I settle further into the chair and open up the game Olly had recommended when we went bowling. The game itself is pretty standard, nothing mind-blowing and innovative, but it does require just enough logic that I can play level after level without being too bored. The only problem I have with it is it leaves me with too much brainpower for thinking about other things.

** ++++++++ **

“Hello?” I mumble even as I bury my face further into my pillow.

“Good morning! Are you awake yet?”

A groan escapes, and I roll onto my back, scrunching my face up at the cheery voice on the line; I pull the phone away from my ear to stare blearily at the time. “Seriously, Harry? It’s not even eight yet.”

“I know, I know. But Paul is on his way to pick you and Louis up. You’re coming to the studioooo,” he sings.

“Either you quit being so chipper, or your bandmates will have to replace you,” I threaten, scowling; setting the call on speakerphone, I push myself out of bed and make my way to the pile of clothes I picked out last night.

“But I thought you loved me being so chipper?”

“A, it’s not, and I repeat, _not_ even eight yet, so ‘chipper’ should be illegal. And b, I barely know you enough to love any part of your personality.”

“Fine. Hurry up and get here!” he yells before the beep of the call disconnecting sounds.

I snort, reluctantly amused, and pull on a pair of plaid sleep-pants, a black tank-top, and socks. My only care right now is being comfortable, and it is much too early to care about what I look like. I do take the time to brush my teeth and wrangle my hair into a messy bun, though, so that’s something. I stop by Louis’s room, knock gently on the door; I don’t know if he’s even in there, but I figure I should do something to make sure he’s okay. His voice is flat, emotionless, when he tells me he’s almost ready. Grabbing my hoodie from the hook on the wall, I shove my arms into the sleeves and zip it up before pushing my feet into my sneakers. Louis comes down the stairs a few minutes later, and my heart aches at the sight of the circles under his eyes and the stubble on his jaw. He looks as if he hasn’t slept at all. I sigh, remind myself that I’m on Bri’s side - even if I don’t necessarily agree with her methods of getting the message across, I am proud of her for finally standing up for herself. I was hiding out in my room while they had their “discussion”, but the fact that she left after it means she was serious about protecting herself.

Once Louis has locked the door behind us, we stand in the chilly morning air for a few minutes. He keeps his head down and shoulders up around his ears. I reach over to pat his back; he doesn’t even look at me, and I shove my hands into my pockets. This is awkward enough without me trying to make it better. A black SUV pulls up into the driveway, and I let Louis lead me to the vehicle. Paul grins at me in the rearview mirror after I’ve buckled up.

“And how are you this morning?”

“Dude, is everyone so damn chipper this early?”

He laughs, reversing out onto the street. “When you’re used to early mornings, the hour starts to not bother you.”

“I doubt it,” I grumble and lean my head against the window. “I was up by eight every morning for the past two years, and I still hated it.”

All he does in reply is to chuckle again and focus on the road. I yawn so many times during the ride to the studio that I’m genuinely afraid my jaw is going to fall off. Unfortunately for Niall, he is the first one who sees me and, in his misguided attempt at being a sweetheart, makes the mistake of waving at me with an enormous smile as soon as I join them in the room with the soundboards. My response is an instinctive glare (and yet another yawn), and his face falls, hand slowly dropping to his side. I immediately feel awful - the poor guy doesn’t deserve my irritation - but before I can apologise, a Starbucks cup is shoved into my hands, and I give Brianna a quizzical look. She rolls her eyes and points from the cup to my mouth; I take a small sip.

“Oh, good Lord, _this_ is Heaven,” I sigh dramatically, perching on the stool closest to me.

Her lips quirk upwards, and she takes a drink of her own coffee. “I figured you’d need it.”

I take a closer look at her over the lid of my drink. She’s pulled her hair back into a simple braid and applied her usual makeup, but no amount of eyeliner and mascara can hide the pain in her eyes. I wonder if anyone else notices it. Her hand is cool in mine when I reach over and squeeze it gently. She nods. I turn my attention to the guys as they talk to the staff; before Niall can make it to the booth, I call his name. He glances at me over his shoulder, brows pulled together over his eyes.

“Sorry for earlier.”

His face lights up, and I watch him walk through the door with a renewed bounce to his step.

** ++++++++ **

It’s been hours, but I’m still in awe at how amazing the guys sounded during the recording process. They gave it all they had; even Louis had managed to put aside his feelings long enough to lay down the vocals. It was an amazing experience, and I’m immensely grateful that I was able to witness it. I almost feel bad about not accepting the offers to come sooner.

Brianna is staring blankly at the table when I walk back into Harry’s kitchen. We’d come to his flat after the studio session, and while everyone else had gathered in the living room to watch Liam and Niall play video games, Bri hadn’t joined us. She doesn’t move as I sit beside her; I wrap my arm around her shoulder, forcibly tugging her into my side. Her eyes, red-rimmed and puffy, closed as she leaned against me, and my heart hurts for her. This is the worst I’ve ever seen her, even worse than when Steven, loser that he is, broke up with her ruthlessly via text after she gave him two years of her life.

“Why doesn’t he understand?” she murmurs, voice broken and cracking.

“Because he’s a guy, babe. Guys need crayon drawings to understand simple things. Emotions? Way out of their normal scope of understanding.”

“I just… Either he wants more, or he doesn’t, but I just want him to actually _tell_ me, ya know? I can’t be happy until he does.”

“I know. I really hope he stops being an idiot soon.”

I kiss her hair and sit there with her. No words are needed at this point; anything else I say will just make everything more uncomfortable, and Brianna doesn’t need to speak for me to know what she’s thinking. The sound of a crowd cheering comes from the living room, but I ignore it. FIFA means nothing when my best friend is hurting so badly.

** ++++++++ **

Brianna throws her phone at me with a bitten-off screech of frustration, and I fumble with the device before finally catching it, watching as she storms from the living room. I scroll through the search results on the screen, all speculating whether “Louanna” has broken up; every link I click makes an enormous deal out of the fact that Bri hasn’t been seen with Louis in days, and a handful of articles contain screenshots of tweets from fans. The sound of a man’s voice brings my attention to the television where Mario Lopez is droning on and on about the rumours. My anger grows the more I read and hear; it’s all so despicable, the way that people are treating Lou and Brianna as delicious gossip and not the humans they are. I don’t think things through as I head upstairs to grab my own phone and bring up an internet window, using the TwitLonger website that a lot of Brianna’s tweets are posted from.

**dakotaj:** _Wow, you guys are absolutely pathetic!! Calling yourself a “fan” but being completely disrespectful towards the guys and their life choices. And DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED on the bullshit that you gossip mags/shows are spewing. You’re always making something out of nothing and blowing everything out of proportion. Yes, I know. The guys knew this was a risk when they decided to pursue a music career, but every single one of you who is pushing for answers to questions that are NONE of your business, who is starting rumors just to watch a shit-storm descend upon the guys/anyone associated with them, who isn’t taking into consideration that their personal lives should be just that - PERSONAL!! - make me absolutely sick! It makes me wonder why they should/would continue making music and playing shows for a group of ungrateful little twats and self-righteous assholes. In closing - you’re all despicable and vile, and your reason for existence is questionable at best. _

My thumbs hurt from typing it all on my phone, but there’s a sense of satisfaction that blooms in my chest. I post the tweet then reply to it with the guys’ handles; I don’t expect them to actually _read_ the tweet, and I won’t be hurt if they don’t - they’re busy dudes - but it still needed to be said. I’m aware there will be some backlash for my rant and that it can potentially get incredibly ugly; I really don’t care, though. I can always just deactivate my account if it comes to it.

_Was that really you? The long tweet, I mean_

I still don’t know which member that the cactus emoji is supposed to be, but I send back _Why, yes it was!_

_Thank you! I bow down to you and your wonderful ways! _

I laugh quietly to myself and respond with _As you should, peasant!_ Asking who it is isn't important right now, though I know I should soon. Mostly because it's just going to be awkward if I don't. I've just set my phone aside and lifted my book when my bedroom door flings open, hitting the wall behind it with a resounding crash. I squeal when three bodies land on top of me, and amidst their laughter, I struggle to shove them away. Finally, the guys remove themselves from the pile they've made, and I stare at Liam, Niall, and Harry. The fact that Zayn isn't here lets me know it was _probably_ him who texted. When none of them speak, I raise my eyebrow.

“You must be psychic!” Niall exclaims as he bounces on the edge of my bed, blue eyes twinkling. “You said what we've wanted to say for so long!”

I smile widely and put the book on the nightstand. “No problem. Promise. Where's, uh, where's Louis?”

The three of them exchange a look; Liam crosses his arms, leans against the wall. Harry avoids eye contact with me, and when Niall doesn't say anything, Liam sighs.

“Louis is in a meeting on the phone with management. He's, well, he's kind of in trouble with them right now.”


	8. Say Something, I’m Giving Up on You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _say something_ a great big world ft christina aguilera

I gape open-mouthed at Liam’s words. Why is Louis in trouble with management? Niall stretches out on my bed, poking at my thigh; I swat his hand without taking my eyes off of Liam. A door slams down the hall, and all of us turn our gazes toward the door. Louis appears and stares at me, points his finger at me. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes dark and cloudy. Anger sharpens his features. After a long moment of him staring and pointing in eerie silence, I begin fidgeting as I grow uncomfortable. Finally, he speaks.

“I don’t give a damn what _any_body says about you. Don’t ever change.”

I glance at Harry from the corner of my eye before looking back at Louis. “Uh, okay? What?”

“That tweet? Bloody brilliant. I know it’ll get you a lot of hate from others, but ignore them. Don’t let anyone making you think you can’t say that shit, because you can. I appreciate everything you said. Also, if someone from management comes by and tries to force you to leave, tell them to bugger off. You’re here in _my_ house, as _my_ guest, and you’re allowed to stay here until you make the decision to leave.” His grin is sharp, victorious, and he turns to Harry. “Haz, is Brianna still at your place?”

“Erm, yeah, I think so.”

“Good. I’ll be back. Remember what I said, Koty.”

He pivots abruptly on his heel; his footsteps echo in the quiet corridor as he thunders down the stairs, and the front door shuts with a bang. I continue staring at the spot where he stood for a few seconds, blink owlishly, then turn to the others. They merely shrug in response. We’re all so confused.

**[Bri’s POV]**  
The clock on the wall is stuck at 1:49 - the same as it has been since the first time I ever came to Harry’s flat almost ten months ago. Though none of the hands move, I remain staring at it from my spot on the couch, wrapped in a heavy quilt. My mug of tea is stone-cold on the table, but I just really don’t care. The pain in my chest has rendered me frozen to the point that I’ve only moved from the sofa to use the bathroom and go to bed. Not like I actually sleep. Every time I try, the memory of yelling at Louis, him yelling back at me, and realising that he isn’t ever going to understand… it haunts me. Harry, the poor kid, has been desperately trying to cheer me up, to make me talk. It’s unfortunate for both of us that his efforts consistently fail; I’m not ready to feel better.

And it’s all stupid Louis’s fault. He has confused me since the day we met. I thought when he offered me a room in his house after a few months of incessant flirting that it would push whatever we had into something more. But it didn’t. All it succeeded in doing was blurring the lines between what was real and what could be. I hate to admit it, but somewhere in the time I’ve known the guys, I fell in love with Louis Tomlinson. I let myself fall so damn hard for him, there is no rescuing me, and all he’s done in return was hurt me, no matter how inadvertently it was. He hasn’t even tried to contact me since we fought in the kitchen. He avoided looking at me in the studio. I think that’s what hurts the most - not having those beautiful blue eyes of his finding mine and sparkling with whatever mischievous plan he has forming in his mind.

I sniff through a stuffed nose and huddle deeper into the blankets. I made a vow to not cry over him again. It isn’t helping to solve anything, and it certainly isn’t going to help me get over him any sooner. _Maybe things just aren’t meant to be_, whispers a voice in my brain, and I snort. It isn’t as much of a surprise, really, once I have that thought; all I have to do is look at my parents’ joke of a marriage. They tied the knot only because my mom got knocked-up after a one night-stand with the man I called my father until I was fifteen. The nights I spent under their roof were nightmarish at best; more often than not, it was a living Hell. My lullaby was constant screaming and fighting and slamming doors. The only reprieve I ever got was with DJ. If it wasn’t for her and all the times we ran away to “our” cabin in the woods, I would have left that town long before I did.

A knock on the door brings me out of my thoughts. I stare at the wood, unspeaking, hoping they’ll go away. Luck isn’t on my side, though, and they continue pounding on the door. I stagger through the apartment and, with the sole purpose of finally getting the visitor to leave me alone, pull open the door.

**[Louis’s POV]**  
Brianna looks, well, she looks awful. She’s wrapped up in one of Harry’s quilts; her eyes are red, swollen from tears. Her brown-and-blonde hair is pulled back in what not barely resembles a braid. I can see how much she’s hurting just by looking into her eyes. I curse myself mentally and drag in a deep breath.

“What are you doing here?” she croaks out before turning away from the door, shuffling to the sofa.

I step inside and close the door behind me. I hesitate but then sit in the armchair. The last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable. She keeps her focus on the clock on the wall. I clear my throat. My heart breaks at the way she flinches at the sound.

“Look, please hear me out. You were… you were right. About everything you said in our kitchen that day. I, well, I didn’t see what was right in front of me because I was - _am_ \- an idiot. I can never apologise enough for the Hell I’ve put you through. You deserve better than that. I know I’ve no right to ask this of you, but can you forgive me? I asked Koty what you meant, because I couldn’t figure it out myself, but she refused to tell me. She said if I ever wanted a chance in Hell of you forgiving me, I had to figure it out myself. Then it hit me.

“You asked if I even knew what I wanted. I didn’t understand at the time what you could possibly be talking about. But now I’m here, right here, to tell you that I know. I know what I want. It’s you, Bri. It’s you, and it has been since we met. I’ll go to the ends of the furthest galaxy just to show you that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, to show how much you mean to me. To show you how much I love you. Please believe me, I’m a complete idiot, but there is no one I’ve ever loved as much as I love you. I’m so sorry it took so long to figure out. I’m sorry that I hurt you so much because of it. Can you please forgive me and come home?”

Her eyes are wide, mouth dropped open slightly. In any other situation, I would love to have her attention solely on me. But right now, when she isn’t speaking after I basically monologued to her about the emotions I had ignored for so long, for her to not look away from my face is terrifying. My heart races in my chest, beating wildly against my ribs, and my hands tremble in my lap. The lump in my throat grows thicker, harder, the longer she remains silent. I mentally plead for her to say something, anything…


	9. Secrets Stolen from Deep Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _time after time_ cyndi lauper

**[Dakota’s POV] **  
Liam and Niall left shortly after Louis had gone to Harry’s apartment, but Harry didn’t want to interrupt whatever was going on between our two friends, so he’s been camped out with me. I sprawled out on the couch thirty minutes ago and haven’t moved since; he flips through the channels on the television absentmindedly. Nothing catches our attention, but we don’t exactly care too much. It’s relaxing to not have anything to think about. Suddenly, Harry turns off the TV and turns on the sofa to face me.

“So what do you think is going on with them?” he asks, scratching at the skin behind his ear - something I’ve noticed he does without thought.

I shrug my shoulders, roll onto my back so I'm not having to twist my head so far back to look at him. “Honestly? Knowing Bri, any number of scenarios could be playing out. I just hope it's good. I think he could actually be great for her.”

“But?”

“But he needs to get his head out of his ass and see what I see every time I look at her whenever he's around.”

“She's in love with him, isn't she?” he questions after a pause, and I scoff.

“How the Hell have you guys known her for so long and _not_ seen that? Of course she is. Oh, shit, don't tell her I said, ‘kay? She doesn't like people knowing things if she doesn't tell them, and she’ll know that I told you if you ever mention it.”

“Not a problem. Secret is safe with me.”

I nudge him with my foot, and he grins widely before wrapping his fingers around my ankle to prevent movement. My thoughts race as I stare at him, a million questions rolling through my mind. He's still essentially a stranger to me. Harry is a great guy - sweet and funny and caring - and I already get along with him so well, but… I know next to nothing about him. I decide to ask questions to learn more about him, but he speaks before I can.

“I think Louis might be in love with Brianna, too.”

_Oh._ “Okay, why do you say that?”

Harry’s face goes serious as he thinks. I stifle a giggle when his thumb drags, light as a feather, against the skin of my ankle; eventually he draws in a deep breath. “His eyes. They’ve always betrayed him. He may act nonchalant and ooze confidence when it matters, even when he’s not, but when he’s around her, his eyes show off his nervousness and, and something else. I haven’t been able to figure it out before now, but it’s love. He talks about her all the time. The past few days have been the worst I’ve ever seen him. It’s worse than when he broke up with a girl he dated for almost a year and a half, and he swore he loved to death. But… I think Brianna might actually be ‘the one’.”

“You really think there’s such a thing as ‘the one’?” I ask with a derisive snort; he gives me an inquisitive look.

“Of course. Don’t you?”

“Oh, god, no.”

“Why not?”

“That’s not a conversation I’m willing to have.”

Harry nods slowly, obviously taken aback by the abrupt coldness in my tone. “Okay then.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Would you wanna play Twenty Questions?”

“Sure. You start.”

We spend the next hour asking each other random questions. I learn so much about his family, hometown, childhood, and the band’s beginning. His eyes light up as he talks about the memories he’s made with his mother and sister. He seems so enthusiastic to share this part of his life with me. Something tells me he doesn’t make many new true friends - not since the guys went on X-Factor and Simon grouped them together. I feel honoured to be counted as a friend to him; for some reason that I can’t quite put into words, it makes me want to tell him details of my own life. The full version, not the “edited-so-it’s-less-sad-and-more-happy-than-it-really-is” version. However, I bite my tongue and push aside the thoughts. He doesn’t need to hear about the monsters of my past.

“So. Are you hungry? I’m not a brilliant chef like Bri, but I can make a mean spaghetti.”

I let out a small laugh, nodding, and reach for his hands. He lets me tug him to his feet, though he doesn’t make it easy on me. I follow him to the kitchen and hop up onto the countertop as he busies himself with pulling out a cooking pot from the cabinet. After a minute of watching him, I ask if he needs any help. Something about his quick refusal catches my attention, and I’m struck with the feeling that Brianna told him about the cabin fire incident. I narrow my eyes at him, forcing myself to ask him about it.

“Erm, yeah, she might have brought it up once.” He pauses, glances at me over his shoulder. “Or twice…”

“I’m going to kill her,” I moan as I bury my face in my hands.

He grins, shakes his head, and grabs a package of pasta. “Please don’t. Then Louis might have to kill _you_, then I would have to kill _him_, and then it’d just be a killing circle because the others would have to join in, and it’d be a bloody mess!”

I have no idea why exactly his statement is so hilarious to me, but it is. I slap my hands over my mouth as I laugh uproariously, nearly falling off the counter. He flashes me a cheeky, albeit slightly confused, smile and turns his attention back to the boiling water. In that moment, I feel so much happier about leaving Tennessee than I have been since I actually left home. It’s brought me such a wonderful new friend, even if he just so happens to be a famous singer in a world-renowned boyband.

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

“You definitely weren’t lying,” I sigh, pushing away my empty plate, and slump in my chair. “That was some of the best spaghetti I’ve ever had, and I used to work in an Italian restaurant, so I know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

I swat his hands away from my plate as he stands. “Oh, c’mon! You cooked, so it’s only fair that I do the dishes.”

Instantly, he hands me the silverware he was in the process of picking up. A laugh bubbles out of me, but I hurry to carry everything to the kitchen so I can wash them. The sound of Netflix starting up comes from the living room. I put the newly-cleaned dishes away and wipe down the table with a wet cloth. Once I’m done with that, I turn the light off, make my way to the living room, and flop down onto the couch next to Harry. He presses play on the remote, and _The Lion King_ starts playing. We sing along to the opening song, our voices off-key and full of laughter. We settle down once the movie gets past the song, and he moves his arm so I can lie down with my head on his lap. His fingers immediately find the ends of my hair, twisting them gently. The next thing I’m aware of, someone’s whispering over my head.

“Lou, leave them alone!”

“I just want a picture!”

“But you’re going to wake them up. Seriously, you’re gonna kiss Haz if you get any closer.”

“Fine,” Louis hisses as a camera shutter clicks, “I’m done anyway.”

“I swear to God, Louis, if that photo ends up on the internet, I’m going to kill you.”

“Oh! Koty, you're awake. Er… what picture?”

I crack one eye open to glare at him the best I can while still waking up. He smiles innocently and perched on the arm of the couch. It takes a moment to disentangle myself from Harry’s arms - when the Hell has that happened? I scrub a hand over my eyes, yawning widely; Brianna waves at me from the doorway as my gaze lands on her.

“Hey, how was your nap?”

I ignore her and head to the bathroom. By the time I've returned, Harry is awake and sitting up, his hair a mess from sleep. I flick one of his curls as I pass to sit in the armchair. Bri raises an eyebrow but doesn't speak. Harry pats the cushion next to him, and she plops down gracelessly.

“So you two all right now?”

Louis grins like the Cheshire Cat. “I'm pretty sure we're okay.”

“We damn well better be after that display you put on in front of Haz’s neighbour.”

“Please tell me you didn't scar that old woman,” begs Harry with a groan.

“She's fine, I promise,” Louis rushes to reassure him before continuing, laughing, “maybe just a wee bit jealous!”

****

The blanket does nothing to provide much comfort against the concrete of the balcony, but the gesture alone is thoughtful, considerate, so I don't complain as I lie back to stare at the sky. The stars above us seem to shine brighter in the dark sky. I stargazed a few times during my life - living in the backwoods of nowhere lends many possibilities to experiencing nature - but somehow, it’s better here. Maybe it's because I know Bri’s finally happy, _really_ genuinely happy. Maybe it’s because the traffic ten floors below is muffled enough that it feels like we’re in our own little world. Or maybe it's because Harry is only a foot away, stretched out on his back with his hands folded under his head, his attention on the tiny pinpoints of light in the sea of black. My lips curve up into a small smile, and I relax further with a little sigh.

“Sorry it's not very comfortable,” he whispers, and I shake my head.

“It's wonderful, Haz, really. What _is_ all this, though?”

“You’ve been here a week, and you managed to get Bri to stand up for herself which means she and Louis are happy now, so… I figured we’d do something to celebrate. I mean, it’s obviously a little simple, and we can totally do something else if you want.”

“No, no, this is perfect. I like simple.”

He rolls onto his side to face me. “I-I know this is really none of my business, and you can tell me to go fuck myself, but… why don’t you talk about yourself very often?”

The words wilt in my throat, and I sigh, staring at the sky. What can I possibly say that won’t make him run away screaming? His gaze is heavy against the side of my face, and finally, I turn my head to look at him. He smiles comfortingly, which helps to ease the fear a bit.

“I… I don’t because I don’t really like what I have to say. Granted, life for me was significantly better than what others had -”

“Brianna.”

“Right.” Exhaling sharply, I scratch at my eyebrow and avoid eye contact as I continue. “Even though it was easier compared to her life, it’s, it’s still not easy to talk about. Don’t get me wrong, my parents were great. The typical down-home, Southern Christian family, followed the Bible quite religiously, pardon the pun. But they were great, nonetheless. They’ve always loved my sister and me unconditionally, tried to give us everything we needed to go far in life. I couldn’t have asked for better parents.”

“So what’s so hard to talk about?” he murmurs, so low I almost don’t hear him.

“It’s stupid, really. They’re getting divorced,” I sigh with a shrug.

“That’s not stupid. My mum and dad divorced when I was seven.”

“And now I feel even dumber, since I’m twenty-one.”

Harry chuckles, pushes at my shoulder gently. “Don’t.”

Someone honks down on the street, and I pull my sweater tighter around me as a chill breeze slides over my skin; Harry takes that as initiative to scoot closer. His arm is comforting over my waist, and the warmth between us is strangely reassuring. The quiet, on the other hand, is disconcerting. I know he has more questions, I just hope I can answer them.

“So, uh, what else is there? No offence, but I don't really believe that's all. Everything about you, the way you avoid talking about yourself… it all points to something huge. You don't have to tell me,” he adds in a rush when I don't speak. “Just day the word, and I'll drop it.”

“It's fine. Um, you have to promise not to judge me.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

I pull away from his grasp, sitting up with my knees to my chest. He watches me closely as I gather my thoughts. The memory is still clear as day, even so many years later; my eyes close of their own accord, my lungs burn when I drag in a tremulous breath.

_My hands pressed tightly over my mouth, stifling the scream that was bursting to explode, and I leaned heavily against the bark of the large cottonwood tree I was perched in. I'd climbed it instinctively when I heard the voices, the crackling of twigs and fallen branches snapping under heavy boots. I couldn't look away from the scene on the ground below me. My heart hammered in my chest, painful against my ribs; breathing is near impossible with how tight my lungs are. My eyes stung, my vision blurred with tears, but I bit back the sounds and forced myself to take shallow, silent breaths. I knew if I cried out or moved - anything that would draw attention to my position in the tree - the fact that I was a young girl who belonged to the local Church of Christ wouldn't save me. Time dragged on, and I desperately wanted to look away, to stop watching and pretend nothing happened, but I couldn't. Finally, the riverbank fell quiet again, the frightened and agonised screams abruptly dying out with a final blow of the rock against her skull; even the insects were silent, and I watched as the woman’s body disappeared into the murky water, a flash of pale white and dark crimson sinking down and slipping away. A large, hulking shadow slipped back into the trees, and I waited with baited breath until I was sure he was gone before slowly, carefully, lowering myself to the ground. A bullfrog let out a baritone croak; I jumped, startled, then turned on my heel and tore through the woods. The world spun dizzyingly around me as branches scratched at my face, cling to my clothes. A scream tore from me when I was suddenly yanked to a stop, and I couldn't stop the sob of relief at the realisation i hadn't been caught, it was just a low-hanging limb. I untangled my shirt and pushed on. My feet didn’t stop carrying me towards home even as I vomited, barely turning my head to prevent any getting on myself. I couldn't get the images out of my head. I knew I would never be able to forget what I witnessed. And I hated that I'd have this memory for the rest of my life._


	10. I'm in Serious Shit, I Feel Totally Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _all the things she said_ t.A.T.u

The silence that stretches between us once I finish speaking grows uncomfortable, and my cheeks burn as I stare down at my knees. Regret wells up in me, and I berate myself mentally for telling him the worst part of my childhood. Recalling the memory has ruined the peaceful, somewhat magical, atmosphere of the evening. Now I feel cold and naked; tears burn in my eyes when there’s still no response from Harry, even though he hasn’t looked away from me. Sniffling, I clumsily stand and head back inside. I grab my jacket and phone from off the couch, make my way through his apartment, and hurry down the hallway. The panel dings when I press the button for the elevator, and I can do nothing but wait.

“How old were you?”

I turn at the sound of Harry’s voice to see him standing in his doorway, hands in his pockets and gaze steady on me. “What?”

“Come back inside. We can talk.”

The elevator beeps behind me, the scrape of the doors opening too loud in the quiet, and I'm torn between two choices. Option A is to leave the building, go back to Louis and Bri’s place, and hide out in my room, praying to a God I don't believe in that Harry will forget what I've told him, whereas Option B is to sit in his apartment and actually tell him more about that night, which means risking everything changing even more. Unfortunately, the choice is taken from my hands, and the elevator doors slide shut; I close my eyes at the humming sound as the lift descends. Harry is still there when I look at him again, and I sigh, head back toward his apartment. He leads me into the kitchen and immediately starts rummaging through a cabinet. He sets two mugs on the table, drops teabags in.

“You all are really serious about your tea, then?”

Harry snorts and grins, dimples on display. “Of course. We’re British. It's in our blood.”

I roll my eyes, laughing, and his smile turns smug even as he pushes a cup toward me. Steam spirals up from the surface, and I breathe in the scent of spices and the subtle hint of orange. Neither of us says anything for a while; instead, I stare at the photos pinned to his refrigerator with magnets. Eventually, I take a sip of my tea and ignore the way it scalds my tongue.

“I was eleven,” I whisper, my gaze still focused on the picture of him and a woman who I assume is his mother.

“Pardon?”

“When… that night, I was eleven.”

His eyes grow wide, and he reaches cross the table to hold my hand in his; I take comfort in the warmth. “Did you tell anybody?”

“Kinda. I asked a kid I knew to draw a character for a story I was writing, said my teacher wanted art, too, or she'd fail us. He was in high school, and she was new, so I was taking a chance that he didn't know her and couldn't call me out on it. He said sure, all he needed was the details. And god, I had those. All I could see for so long after it happened was that man’s face. I _still_ can. So I gave them to him, and he sketched it out, then I dropped it off at the police station with an anonymous note describing what I'd seen. They hadn't even known the woman was missing, but apparently, they got the note, because it was on the news every day for almost three weeks. Mama wouldn't let us out of the house, not even for school. Daddy would have to bring home our work for us and take it back the next morning.

“Was he ever caught?”

“Nah. He was murdered for trying to do the same thing to another woman a few towns over. Her brother had went with her on her run, though. Evidently, he'd heard about what happened in our town and didn't trust that it wouldn't happen there. He shot the guys before he could so much as unbutton her jeans.”

“Wow.” Harry pauses, releasing my hand to swallow down a mouthful of tea, and when I finally look at him, there is no pity, no disgust, on his face. His lips quirk, but then he gets serious again. “Dakota… what you just told me hasn't affected our friendship a bit. Okay? You’re still a funny, brilliant, amazing girl that I’m so glad to know.”

“Thanks, Haz.”

We finish our drinks in silence, but this time, it isn’t all that uncomfortable. I’m still shaky from reliving that memory, and I’ll willingly _never_ do it again. Knowing it hasn’t changed anything between us, though… it leaves me with a sense of stability now. I do, however, make him promise to never tell Bri; she’ll be angry that I didn’t tell her, upset that I saw something like that and have been repressing it for a decade, and uncertain in how she should treat me. I really don’t have the strength or desire to deal with all that.

“Now, do you want to go back to stargazing, or should I take you home?”

“I think,” I start before draining the rest of my tea and setting the cup down, “stargazing sounds perfect.”

****

Sunlight blinds me before I even fully open my eyes. I shiver as I roll over to bury my face into - a chest? I quickly jerk away to find Harry sprawled out under the quilt, still snoring softly next to me. I blink rapidly to clear the sleep from my eyes; clouds drift across the sky, and the air is brisk against my cheeks as I look around us. _We’re still on the balcony, what the hell?_ I don’t even remember falling asleep. Memories of the night before come flooding to the forefront of my mind. I groan softly as my muscles protest movement from lying on concrete for so long. I nudge Harry’s shoulder with perhaps more force than necessary, and his eyes snap open instantly. He scrambles to sit up. I barely manage to suppress a giggle at the mass of curls on his head, flattened on one side but wild and fluffy on the other.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” he mumbles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You tossers fell asleep on the balcony, is what’s going on,” Brianna’s voice sounds from the doorway behind us, and I whirl around to look at her. She tosses my phone to me with a smile. “Oh, and Harry? If you really wanted to get my best friend into bed, at least let me know so I’m not worried, calling and texting all night, when she doesn’t come home. And for God’s sake, don’t be an exhibitionist about it!”

I flip her off as Harry’s cheeks redden within seconds. Bri helps me to my feet, and I wince, hiss between clenched teeth, when every single inch of my body seems to mutiny against me. I shake out my limbs in hopes that it’ll help ease the pain; sleeping on concrete, even with an admittedly thick blanket between body and ground, is such an awful, terrible, no-good idea. I follow Brianna inside where she hands me a Starbucks cup. There is no hesitation before I start drinking down whatever concoction she’s brought me. Caffeine is caffeine, and no matter the taste, I would be a fool to turn it down, especially this morning. Harry stumbles past me, and the bathroom door slams shut with an echoing bang a moment later. Niall grins brightly at me from his spot on the sofa next to Louis, and I feel the heat in my cheeks when Louis gives me a playful wink. Thankfully, I have a very mature response handy: I stick my tongue out at him and cross my eyes before looking around at the rest of the people in the apartment.

Zayn sprawls out in the armchair, not even dragging his focus away from the phone in his hand, and Paul waves from his position by the door. There’s an unfamiliar man standing beside him, but I don’t question it. Who am I to? I cross the room to sit to Niall’s left, catching sight of Liam as I do. He leans against the wall, arms folded tightly over his chest, and he determinedly avoids eye contact. Everything about his body language screams that he’s not happy about something - but what could possibly have upset him so much? This certainly isn’t the Liam I met at the bowling alley. Nobody speaks as the shower starts up with a squeak, and I concentrate on drinking the iced coffee Bri was such a wonderful friend to get for me. A dinging noise interrupts the silence, and I glance down to see a Kik notification.

**From: bananna** _Just wanted to let you know. Be prepared._  
**To: bananna** _Prepared for what??_

**From: bananna** _All Hell to break loose._  
**From: bananna** _Text me later._

My confusion grows as I do mental math to convert the time difference; the fact that my sister has texted me at one in the morning where she is combined with the message itself doesn’t bode well. Brianna catches my eye and cocks her head slightly to the side. I shrug in response. What can I even say? I have no details, so bringing it up probably isn’t a good idea. It isn’t long before Harry rejoins us, freshly-cleaned and dressed for the day. He locks up once we’ve all trooped out of the apartment. The man I don’t know steps into the elevator first with Niall, Liam, and Louis; Bri pushes me into the lift after it comes back, and I step back so that Paul, Harry, and Zayn have room. As soon as we step out into the lobby of the building, a roar of voices meets my ears, and my head snaps up to see the mass of people gathered directly outside the door, cameras flashing and questions being shouted at us though there is little to no hope that any of the inquiries will be answered or even heard over the rest of the cacophony. Paul pushes his way to the front of the group, the other man behind; Bri wraps her fingers around my wrist tightly enough that it actually hurts, and I stumble as she tugs me closer to her side. Her eyes burn fiercely; I know she isn’t worried about herself. She’s trying to protect me. Where she is used to this sort of bedlam, I’m completely new to it, and her protectiveness is still very much alive even after all these years. Niall and Liam take positions to my left, while Harry and Louis walk on Brianna’s right side. Zayn lags behind just a step, staying between me and the security guard tailing us. We manage to shove our way through the crowd to the SUV, and while I try as hard as I can to ignore the questions being lobbed our way, I can’t avoid hearing a few of them, since the people are basically screaming directly into my ears.

“Harry, who is she?”

“Is she your _new_ girlfriend?”

“Is this your latest fling?”

“How does it feel to be just another number in a long list of women, darling?”

“Miss, can you give us any details about your night with _the_ Harry Styles?”

Bri’s hands aren’t gentle when she forcibly pushes me into the car, her jaw set in anger; as if it’s a choreographed dance, everyone is seated within forty-five seconds, and the doors muffle the noise from the reporters. Paul pulls out of the parking lot without hesitation. My mind spins, my thoughts race ‘round and ‘round. Were they actually insinuating that Harry is a womaniser? That idea clashes horribly with the Harry I’ve come to know. That Harry that is my friend is sweet, kind, and a great listener. Nobody speaks until we arrive at the studio, and that’s only because Paul asks us to wait in the car until he and George (_So that’s his name._) can get rid of the fans that have gathered out front. I’m thankful that they do that. If what happened at the apartment building is any indication of just how ugly life can be for the guys and their friends, I really doubt I could handle it every single day. It’s insane to me, how so many people can be so fixated on someone else’s life that they were willing to literally camp out in front of the celebrity’s home in hopes of catching the next hottest picture of juiciest bit of gossip. Just because they are famous, the guys have lost every shred of privacy, they’ve become sideshow acts for the whole world to fawn over. Anyone they are seen with, like Brianna or even their families, are subject to the same treatment, only this time for the purpose of getting information on the guys and what personal, private lives they have left.

A hand squeezes mine gently, and I blink away the thoughts, look up to see Niall staring at me. He gives me a soft smile and doesn’t seem to take it personally when I can’t muster up one in return.

“You all right?”

“Yeah, just a bit… overwhelmed, I guess.”

“I’m sorry. Are you coming in, too?”

“Nah. I think I should go home and change.”

He nods slowly, releasing my hand. “Just message if you need, yeah?”

The ride back to the house is quiet. Brianna chose to stay at the studio but gave me a key so I could get in. Paul comes to a stop out front and orders me to call him or Bri if there is any trouble; he doesn’t unlock the SUV doors until I’ve sworn on my firstborn child’s life. Once he leaves, I trail through the house to make sure the doors and windows are locked up tight before heading upstairs to my room. I grab a change of clothes and make my way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

As the water heats up, I log into Twitter to see what kind of reactions my tweet has generated. Louis has retweeted it, along with hundreds of their fans; most of my mentions are full of messages telling to rot in Hell, I don't know what I'm talking about, I'm just jealous that the boys are famous and I'm not, and that I should kill myself before they - the people sending the tweets - could find me and it for me. There is a very small percentage of supporters for the rant I posted. The notification symbol suddenly sprouts a number that steadily increases the longer I stare at the screen. I bite my lip but press the icon, sighing when I see all the tweets referencing my being seen in the hall of Harry’s apartment building crying before reentering his flat. Thankfully, my display picture is still the standard egg-shaped avatar, so the people mentioning me can only speculate if it was me because, as one put it, “it's very convenient @dakotaj tweeted that then this new girl is seen leaving Harry's…” Loads of the tweets contain links to dozens of articles about this morning, accompanied by negative remarks about “this new girl’s” appearance. Angrily, I close out of the app and throw my phone onto the counter. I know I'll feel guilty about not being more careful with it later, but right now, I don't care.

The spray from the shower removes all evidence of my crying as I stand under the showerhead. I just can't wrap my mind around how these so-called fans think this is an acceptable way of treating people the guys, their supposed idols, care about. And honestly, after reading all the nasty messages, I'm not entirely sure I want any part of it.


	11. We Were Howling at the Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _howling at nothing_ nathaniel rateliff and the night sweats

When I wake up, the clock on my phone reads 5:02 a.m. My cheeks are tight due to the tears that dried during the night. Once I got out of my shower last night, I put my phone on silent and curled up on my bed. My mind raced and twisted over itself as I thought about all the tweets, and even after sleeping for almost eighteen hours, I don’t feel any better. I actually feel worse. My sleep was interrupted by nightmares of fans tearing me limb from limb as my friends watched on in amusement, interspersed with memories of the night I still see so clearly. I lie in bed for a few minutes longer, not wanting to move out of the warm cocoon of my blanket; the peaceful quiet of early morning stretches on, and I relax into it, let it help ease the discomfort I feel.

Unfortunately, my bladder decides to remind me of its needs, and I sigh, knowing I can't stay wrapped up away from the world. Tossing my comforter back, I stand and pad across my room to the bathroom. The pale yellow walls mock me with their brightness. The tile beneath my feet is cold, and goosebumps ripple up my flesh as I walk to the toilet. I do what I came to the bathroom to do and stare at my reflection as I wash my hands. Faint white tracks streak down my cheeks, and dark half-moons spread out under my red-rimmed eyes. I sigh, splash cool water on my face, then make my way back to my room to change.

The house beyond my door is still quiet, eerily so, and I tiptoe down the stairs. The floorboard just outside the living room creaks under my feet, and I freeze, hope it isn't actually as loud as my brain thinks it is. When I don't hear anything else, I let out a soft breath of relief and continue my journey to the kitchen. I grab an apple from the bowl on the table and hop up to sit on the counter, scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed on my phone to see what people are up to back in Tennessee. The answer, apparently, is “the usual”, as every status update only mirrors the rest of them and the uploaded images are all nearly identical to every other ones I’ve seen numerous times. I exit the app and check my text messages.

**From: Niall** _Hey! How’s it going?_

**From: Briannnaaa** _I hope you’re doing okay by yourself_  
**From: Briannnaaa** _All right, it’s been almost 2 hours since my last text. You still haven’t responded. Is everything okay???_  
**From: Briannnaaa** _What the fuck is going on?!_  
**From: Briannnaaa** _DAKOTA JAMES BRYCE! Please answer me. Is everything okay?_

**From: Harry** _Are you okay? Bri is pacing around, going round the bend worrying about you._  
**From: Harry** _Now you’ve got us all worried. It’s been three hours and no word from you._

Guilt nearly overwhelms me at how much I made them worry about me. It hadn’t been my intent. I sigh and finish eating the apple. Honestly, I’m still reeling from the fact I slept so long, even through all the nightmares. When all that’s left of the fruit is the core, I stand, toss it in the trash, and turn to leave the kitchen. A squeak escapes at the sight of Louis standing in the doorway, arms folded over his chest. I hadn’t heard him come in. He stares at me with an expressionless look on his face. Finally, he draws a breath in through his nose.

“You really had Bri worried. She was almost in tears.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just…”

“We know you fell asleep.” His lips twitch at my confused look. “Brianna forced Paul to come check on you.” Louis pushes away from the doorframe and crosses to the table, sits down with a heavy sigh. “Look, I know you didn’t mean to worry us, but you did. All of us. We both know that Brianna won’t be able to hold a grudge against you, but please don’t do this again. Always let her know what’s going on, because, well, I don’t like seeing my girlfriend so twisted up and crying.”

“I promise I’ll do my best. Wait, ‘girlfriend’? So you two made it official?”

“Pretty much.”

I smile widely, bend down to rest my elbows on the table. “Lou, you’re a great guy, and I’m positive that you’re perfect for my best friend, but I want you to remember two very important things: I know how to use a gun, and I’m not afraid to call upon that knowledge if you ever break her heart.”

“Er… Lucky Charms?” he asks weakly, paling; I smile and shake my head.

“Nah, I already ate.”

I’m still smiling as I walk out of the kitchen, leaving him behind to stare after me.

****

A month, then two, slowly passes with almost the same routine from one day to the next: The guys go to the studio - sometimes, both Brianna and I will join; sometimes just me because she has to work. Then at night, we all go out and do something fun as a group, whether it’s to see a film or bowling or mini-golf, or we stay in at the house to play video games or watch movies we’ve seen a hundred times, though once, we try holding it at Niall’s which turns out to be an awful idea because there just isn’t enough room for seven people to sprawl out around his place. I’ve also been opening up more and more around the guys; now, they all know about my parents’ divorce, and I have told them all about how proud I am of Anna for all of her achievements. They really are the sweetest guys ever.

It surprises me to realise after eight weeks that I’m not looking forward to going home. I’ve begun to understand exactly what lured Brianna to stay instead of coming back home like she planned. Unlike her, though, I have things I just can’t get out of what's waiting for me. So it’s with a heavy heart that I inform everyone over dinner of my plans to go home at the end of the month.

“But… aren’t you having fun here with us?” Niall asks softly, blue eyes full of confusion.

“The past couple of months have been - they’ve been really amazing. They have. I just have things to get back to that I can’t stay away from.”

Brianna’s expression is puzzled, but she says what I knew she would say: “Well, I guess we better make the rest of your time here somethin’ to remember.”

And… it is. Even Olly joins us during the last few weeks. Though I haven’t gotten her to know her as well as I have the others, she no longer intimidated me - as much. I even find some of her crude jokes hilarious. It doesn't stop me from making a fool of myself one night after she made dinner; I told her she was a helluva cook, and she'd laughed, loud and uproarious. I couldn't see what was so funny - I genuinely thought I complimented her when I told her she should be a professional chef. At my confusion, she explained between giggles.

“I'm actually in culinary school. It's why I haven't been around. But yeah, definitely on my way to being a pro.”

There's been no sign of the Liam I encountered in Harry’s apartment the morning after the stargazing sleepover; instead, I've been graced with the charming, easygoing Liam I met when we went bowling. Still, something has seemed off about him, I just can't put my finger on it. I don't mention it, either. I don't want to ruin the last couple of weeks I have with the group of people I've come to love. I push aside the weird vibe, only thinking about it when I'm in bed trying to fall asleep after the house goes quiet.

The one thing I'm never going to miss is the drama. Since the balcony incident, the amount of articles and pictures of me have nearly tripled, all because I'm continuously seen in public with Brianna, Harry, Louis, or Niall, or any combination of the four. My best friend has helped me develop a thicker skin when it comes to the gossip, but for every hundred rumours started, one or two still stick with me. Some insults would knock me on my ass, and I would be left trying to get over it.

On the last day of my visit before my flight home the next evening, everyone packs overnight bags with pyjamas and a change of clothes. Paul stuffs the very back of the SUV with blankets and pillows; a box with flashlights and batteries and, oddly enough, four packages of baby wipes; and a cool of food, drinks, and ice. We somehow manage to scrounge up four tents, all pilfered from the guys’ family members, and load up into the vehicle. George follows the SUV in a separate vehicle. The drive to a clearing in a large expanse of woods takes almost an hour, and we fill that time with laughing, teasing, and singing at the top of our lungs; I notice when we’re halfway there that Paul has earplugs stuffed into his ears, point it out to everyone else. Louis, in the front seat, waits until there is no oncoming traffic before reaching over to take one of the plugs out. Paul mock-glares at me in the rear-view mirror, and I hold my hands up in innocence; I don't think he believes me, but he only laughs and tells Louis not to distract the driver.

Harry, Liam, and Zayn head off to search for firewood while Niall and Olly clear twigs, dead leaves, and dried grass from the centre of the clearing, creating a large dirt circle; Bri and I set up tents around the ring. Dark is beginning to settle over the woods by the time we all finish, and Bri tosses a tent peg at Louis, scolds him for not helping. He jabs the point of the peg into the soil and smiles widely. The guys set up the fire pit while we girls hurry to change into our pyjamas in one of the tents, any exposure to the cooling air making us shiver. Liam and Harry carry the blankets into the tents, and I sit on the ground next to the fire. Olly digs through the cooler, passes me the package of sliced cheese, then continues rummaging through the ice. Brianna makes a spit with tall sturdy branches and aluminium foil, setting deli meat on top of the makeshift cooking tray. No one speaks as I assemble the sandwiches, as everyone gathers around the flames that are now letting off some actual heat, as we eat; I don't know what they're all thinking about. All I know is I'm starting to somewhat regret my decision to go home.

The crackling of the fire and nocturnal insects waking up are the only noise until Olly holds up a bag; someone cheers, then everyone else joins in. I help Niall find long sticks then hand them off to Zayn so he can use the camping knife to whittle the bark off the ends. I stare around at my friends as the sticky sweets toast on the flames, and even if I truly wanted to, I can't stop the smile that spreads across my face. Outside of our bubble awaits reality, but right here, right now… it's perfect.

A humming noise comes from my left, and I look over at Harry and grin before singing _Well, you only need the light when it's burning low, only miss the sun when it starts to snow._ Brianna joins in, then Niall, then everyone else. Somehow, midway through, the tempo changes - we are all off-key and off-rhythm - and Olly begins singing “Livin’ on a Prayer” by Bon Jovi. Our voices carry on the chill wind, echo through the trees, as the volume of our singing increases; Niall plays air guitar, his smile hidden among the mess of marshmallow on his face. I slowly stop singing, mouthing along to the words, and wish that the night will never end.

Eventually, we let the fire start to burn out. The moon is high up in the dark sky, and owls hoot and flutter around above us. Brianna and Louis disappear into one tent first; she pokes her head back out to flip us off when we start catcalling and whooping. Once they’re gone, it seems to be the unofficial signal for bed. Zayn and Olly head to the tent to Bri and Lou’s left, Liam in the one next to that. Harry hugs me tightly before ducking into the tent with Liam. Niall pops the last of his marshmallow into his mouth, gesturing to the remaining tent. I nod, get rid of anything within five feet of the fire that could potentially catch fire, and make my way to the box that Paul packed. I grab out a package of the wipes, tossing them to Niall, and slip into our tent. When he comes in, his face is clean; we make sure all the flaps are zipped shut then huddle down under the blankets. It’s ridiculously cold without the warmth from the fire. The dying flames outside cast eerie shadows against the nylon enclosure, and the sounds of the night press in from all directions. I can ignore those well enough, though, and I roll onto my side and punch my pillow into shape. My breath escapes in a slow exhale, my body relaxes as the body heat coming from my friend wraps around me like a tight embrace. Then comes a noise that no animal can make. Niall snorts and dissolves into giggles first. His hands clap over his mouth as he tries to muffle his laughter. I stare at him in confusion before I realise what those sounds actually are. My cheeks burn at the mortification of hearing _that_, but I laugh nonetheless, not even remotely surprised.

I’m still awake almost an hour later, unable to sleep. There’s a root digging into my side through the blanket beneath me, and though the chirping and buzzing of the insects have become nothing more than white noise to me, I just cannot get comfortable. My fingers dig into Niall’s arm when I hear the telltale sound of snapping twigs. He startles to attention, his free hand reaching for the flashlight; the zipper of our tent door slides in its track, slowly, quietly but so loud in my fear. The flap finally falls to the side, and Niall turns the flashlight on and shines it directly into the intruder’s face, blinding them.

“Oi, Niall, you arse! Turn that bloody thing off!”

“_Liam_?”


	12. Wish We Could Turn Back Time, to the Good Ol’ Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _stressed out_ twenty-one pilots

“Yes, you prat. Now turn that damn thing off and let us in. We’re freezing out here.”

Liam clambers into the tent, and Harry follows close behind, zipping the door shut against the night air. Niall scoots closer to the side of the tent to give them a little more room. Shifting over means the root is no longer underneath me, so I stretch out and press against Niall’s side as the other two slip under the blanket with us. I’m honestly surprised that it covers all four of us, but with as close as we all are as we huddle under the comforter, I suppose it isn’t that shocking. I have the odd sensation that this must be how sardines feel, cramped in their too-little can with not even a centimeter between them. I force my body to relax and turn my face so that Niall’s shoulderblade is no longer pushing against my nose. All I can hear over the sounds of nature is our breathing; it’s soothing, to not feel alone, and I close my eyes.

“It sounds like Bri’s getting murdered,” whispers Harry a few minutes later.

I muffle my giggle into Niall’s back and choke out, “Must be a pleasurable homicide then.”

“Oh, Hell,” Liam groans quietly as the moans and bitten-off gasps increase in volume and intensity. “I cannot believe this is happening.”

“No, _that_ is something I can’t believe is happening.”

I lift my head to give Niall a confused look; all I can hear is Brianna and Louis, and it doesn’t make sense. Then it hits me: the third tent, the one with Olly and Zayn, is no longer silent. Niall lets out a startled _ow!_ when my forehead collides with his shoulder, and I pat his side apologetically before flopping back down between him and Liam. I’m utterly embarrassed to be hearing the two couples’ activities - it’s too personal for me to feel okay with overhearing it, and I am honestly just too uncomfortable with the entire idea of it, no matter the fact I’ve never experienced it before. I throw my arm over Niall’s waist, and his hand comes up to wrap around mine. Between the warmth of four bodies in one small tent and the comfort I take from having my friends with me, I manage to fall asleep.

Birds sing and chirp overhead, and my eyes slowly open, close, then open again. I blink against the weak sunlight and draw in a deep breath. I don’t move from where I’m curled against Niall; the arm over my hips tightens just a bit, but then Liam relaxes with a nearly-inaudible snore. Though I’m comfortable and still so sleepy, my mind decides to remind me that today is the day I leave - that I’ll be on a plane bound for Tennessee in less than thirteen hours. I sigh; I’m going to miss these people, and going back home isn’t nearly as enticing as I thought it would be.

I must have fallen back asleep, because when I open my eyes again, Niall has rolled over in his sleep to face me. I resist the urge to poke his nose, though it’s incredibly tempting. My brows furrow as I realise that I didn’t wake up for nothing, something brought me to consciousness. I look around to see Brianna crouched in the doorway. Her fingers are circled around my ankle. She smiles and motions for me to follow her. It takes a few moments, but I finally extricate myself from the blankets - and Liam’s arm, no matter how much he resists - without waking the others. She leads me through a copse of trees to a small pond. We find a dry patch of grass, lower ourselves to sit. I watch as the water ripples in the gentle breeze that blows through every so often.

“Are you sure you want to go back home?” she murmurs suddenly; the stillness and silence between us makes it sound as if she’s shouted the question.

“I have to.”

“But _why_? I mean, you could make a life here. You’ve enjoyed being here. Why can’t you just…stay?”

“School is giving me until the start of the semester to get back. If I’m not in a seat, in class, in physical form, they’ll kick me out.”

“So enroll in class here! I’m sure they’ll accept a credits transfer.”

I sigh, tossing a tiny pebble into the pond just to hear the quiet _ker-plunk_. “I can’t do that, Bri. I’m sorry, but… I can’t.”

“Why the Hell not?” she challenges, pinning me with a weighted stare, and my temper snaps.

“Because my family needs me!”

The words explode from me before I even knew they were forming. They leave a bitter taste in my mouth and a burning in my gut. Everything falls silent instantly; the birds give indignant squawks, fly out of the trees. From the corner of my eye, I catch the look on Bri’s face, and guilt bursts into life at the shock, anger, and betrayal. Time seems frozen, as if the entire world has come to a standstill. I ache desperately to take back the words, the ones that I know remind her exactly of why she had no problem leaving home after high school without looking back once. It has never been her fault that her parents were too worthless to want and love her, yet I just threw it in her face that mine actually care about me. The regret tastes like poison on my tongue. After a long moment, Bri’s lips twisted into a terrible, cold semblance of a smile.

“Well, then. Let’s get going back. Don’t want you to miss your flight back to your family.”

“Bri -”

“Save it. I think you’ve said enough.”

She doesn’t bother waiting for me as she makes her way through the trees back to the campsite. Brianna avoids looking at me as we wait for the others to wake, as we pack up the supplies and tear down the tents, as we eat cold sandwiches for breakfast then load everything up into the SUV Paul left for us. I sit in the middle row between Liam and Olly, and though she glances into the rear-view mirror occasionally once we get out of the wooded area, her gaze instantly darts away from my face. Nobody appears to notice the tension between her and me; my stomach churns with remorse. Olly’s head drops onto my shoulder halfway to the city, and her snores fill my ear. I grimace, hoping she isn’t the drooling type. The radio plays quietly, but I can’t focus on the sound. I shift until I can pull my phone out of my pocket, give Liam an apologetic smile when I disturb him, and type out a text to Bri.

_I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to say what I did. It was low and cruel, and you didn’t - you DON’T - deserve it. You’ve been the best friend I could ever have asked for. This was all on me, and I’m so sorry. I hate that word vomit got the best of me. I hate that word vomit just screwed me out of a sister. I am so so so so so sorry, muffin. Please forgive me? _

There’s still no response from her by the time we drop everyone off at their homes and arrive back at the house she shares with Louis. She storms through the front door and up the stairs with no second glance back; Louis raises an eyebrow at me but dutifully follows after her. I sigh, the sound echoing in the front hall, before heading up to my room to finish packing. I did most of it over the last week, but there are a few things left. I have to sit on top of my suitcase to be able to zip it closed. Once I'm done and my luggage is sitting by the door, I check the time. I still have five hours before I have to be at the airport, so I set an alarm for five-thirty, sprawl across the bed, and force myself to sleep.

Olly embraces me tightly when my flight is called over the loudspeaker. I manage to grin back at her before grabbing the handle of my suitcase. The guys weren't able to give me a ride to the airport - their management and security told them it was too risky to help for anything less than a massive disaster if they appeared in public like that. Brianna… well, I haven't seen her since we got back to the house. Olly had been kind enough to offer transportation, though we aren't really close by any means. The guys texted to wish me a safe flight, but we'd already said our goodbyes when bro dropped them off at their homes. I didn't have the courage to find Louis or my best friend before I left, so I left a note on their kitchen table. Hopefully, it'll be enough.

Nobody waits for me at the other end of my flight. I can see nearly everybody else being greeted by family and friends, but I am on my own. I make my way through the crowds to baggage claim, grab my suitcase, and shrug my carry-on higher on my shoulder. Someone grumbles when I bump into them; I mutter a hasty apology and continue toward the door. Taxis and cars inch past outside, all of them waiting for passengers before they head off to their destination. It is a three-hour drive between the airport and my little hometown; walking that far is an absolutely insane attempt, even without the added weight of my twenty-seven-pound suitcase and five-pound backpack. I squeeze through a gap between people and sag against the wall of the building, watch as flyers file out onto the sidewalk and into the waiting vehicles. My hair falls into my face, and I blow it away. Unless I want to pay an outrageous fare and still be miles from home, I know walking is probably my only option. I stand upright when someone shouts my name.

“Jacob?”

“Hey, I thought that was you!” My classmate hugs me, and I grimace but plaster on a smile when he pulls away. “Man, how crazy is it to run into you here!”

“Yeah, crazy. Uh, so what brings you to the wonderful airport?”

“My little bro had to go back to school, so I was dropping him off. You, um, you need a ride?”

_Walk for hours, or accept a lift?_ The choices aren't great, but I choose the one that seems less painful on me. He leads me to the parking garage and hefts my suitcase into the bed of his truck. The roar of the engine is deafening, and I grip tightly to the door when he reverses carelessly out of the parking space. His driving is reckless, terrifying; I deal with it as best I can, though. It would be ungrateful of me to complain when he’s nice enough to drive me home. Thankfully, we don’t die in a fiery wreck, even though he takes the curve seven miles from my house going twenty over the speed limit, and he finally slows to drive up the long driveway. The truck comes to a stop with a jerk, and I smile at him before sliding out of the cab. He comes around to the passenger side to lift my luggage from the back, handing them to me.

“Thanks, Jacob, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” He calls my name as I start walking away, and I turn to face him. “Would you, uh, wanna go to a party next Friday? W-with me?”

I bite my lip; it doesn’t sound like much fun, especially since I barely know the guy. “I’ll think about it.”

He nods once, gets back into his truck, and starts up the engine. I wince as gravel kicks up beneath his tires when he peels out of the driveway. With a heavy sigh, I unlock the front door to the house and step inside. I know it’s a ridiculously early hour of the morning, but I really expected my mom or sister to hear the noise of the truck and realise I was home. But all the lights inside are off, so I swallow down my disappointment and head down to the basement. I don’t bother unpacking or changing clothes - I just flop onto my bed and quickly fall asleep.


	13. I’m on My Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _home sweet home_ motley crue

I glance down at my phone, mostly out of habit by now. As expected, there is no message from Brianna, there hasn’t been since the camping trip. A month has flown by, and each day, the hurt I feel at the lack of contact with my best friend seems to get worse. I haven’t really talked to the guys, either, which really sucks. I know they’re busy, and I will never begrudge them for that. I just wish I didn’t feel so cut off from the group of friends I made. Olly has sent a few texts - mostly descriptions and pictures of food she’s made in class that never fail to make my mouth water; I only ever seem to send back texts saying I’m jealous.

I lock my phone, sliding it into my hoodie pocket, and focus on the lecture. My mind doesn't want to cooperate, no matter how hard I try. It keeps going back to the day my words messed everything up. I had never once thrown her familial situation in her face like that, and the memory still leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I've relieved that day over and over in my dreams; each time, I attempt to stop myself, to force myself to bite back the words, but all I succeed in doing is watching her face close off as everything we've ever had is shattered. My chest tightens, and a little voice in my brain whispers that nothing is ever going to be the same.

A hand falls onto my shoulder, and I jump. My knees hit the underside of the desk. My instructor raises a brow when I look up at her.

“Miss Bryce, is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I'm fine.”

“I only ask because I dismissed class five minutes ago.”

I close my eyes against the shame, nod succinctly, and gather up my stuff. Her gaze is a palpable weight on my shoulders as I hurry from the room. Students mill around on the sidewalks, and I start the dance that comes with being on campus. Moving quickly through groups of chattering people and ducking under the frisbee that zooms past, I finally reach my car. I check for any missed messages, hope a feeble thing in my chest; there’s only a text from Jacob inviting me out the next night. I send back a thumbs-up, feeling a small smile playing at my lips. He and I have become pretty close since I got back from London. I won’t ever get in his car again, but we still talk every day, and we’ve hung out outside of school multiple times - including various house-parties on the weekends. It’s nothing like spending time with Brianna or Harry, but it’s good enough to distract me from the loss I feel since the friendship with Bri ended.

Jacob is waiting for me by the front door of the house by the time Anna drops me off. Her face is impassive, but her eyes give away her displeasure; I promise her that I'll be good and give her a call when I'm ready to go home. She nods stiffly, watches me as I slide out of the passenger seat, and then drives away quickly. Biting my lip, I stare after her, then I shrug and turn to step carefully through the yard until I reach the porch. Jacob throws open his arms, and I don't even get the chance to move out of reach before he’s enveloped me in a bone-crushing embrace. I can already smell the liquor on his breath.

Thankfully, he isn't the only person I know here. Sonia is perched on the back of the rundown couch when I walk in, and her face lights up when she sees me. I peel away from Jacob and rush to her side, hugging her tightly. She has been my saving grace in class lately; she caught me up on the instructors’ teaching methods, gave me her notes from when she took the classes, and tutors me if something isn't clicking right. I know I would be close to giving up on becoming a nurse if it wasn't for her. I stand next to her, and we chat for a few minutes. She's nice enough to introduce me to the group she was talking to before I interrupted.

The song on the stereo changes, melds from something wild and frantic to smooth and bumping with bass. Sonia grabs for my hand and latches onto another girl, drags us both to the centre of the living room where we dance together. I have no rhythm, tripping over my own feet, but it isn't as uncomfortable or awkward as I feared. Instead, we laugh at my clumsiness and continue moving to the beat. Someone pushes a drink into my hand, and I glance up at Jacob. He grins in response and disappears through the throng of partygoers. Max gives the cup a distrustful look, takes it from me, and pours it out into the bucket a couple of feet away.

“Don't you know not to drink something you didn't make yourself?” she asks when she rejoins us.

“Oh, c’mon, I wasn't gonna be dumb enough to actually drink it!”

“Mmhmm, sure, white girl.”

I pull back, scandalised, and gape at her. “_You're_ white!”

“But not dumb!” she giggles before pulling me in again so we can continue dancing.

Everything is swirling together, a mass of blurring faces and shifting walls. I laugh even as my knee collided with the edge of a step, and strong arms heft me back to my feet. Guys reach out to slap at my shoulder - but why? Girls shoot me judgmental looks before turning away to talk with their friends. I stumble down the hall; I don't even know where I'm going, I just know something is up here that I need. What do I need? I can't concentrate on walking _and_ my confusion at the same time, but someone pushes me forward, and I give up trying to make sense of my thoughts. Something soft and bouncy is beneath my back, hard and unyielding on top of me, and my head swims as I try to drag in a breath. Whisky coats my tongue, I choke on the liquid as it slides down my throat; my sinuses burn fiercely when some of the whisky goes the wrong way and fills the back of my nostrils. I can’t breathe properly, and fear buzzes to life in my veins when a mouth descends onto mine. My fingers press into the expanse of shoulders above me, but the body isn’t moving - not away, anyway. Thick fingers slip between the waistband of my jeans and my hips, tug at the material, while a hand comes up to cup my breast. Panic bursts into existence, and I struggle harder, muttering _no no no_ against the lips on mine.

“C’mon, stop bein’ so difficult.”

“No, stop, I don’t - I don’t want this.”

Somehow, I manage to lift my leg enough to slam my knee upwards, and I bite down on the tongue that’s forcing its way between my lips. I’m suddenly free, no longer weighted down by unrelenting muscle, and I scramble to my feet, running to the wall on unsteady feet. I slap at the wall repeatedly until my hands find the light switch. Jacob has one hand over his mouth, blood seeping between his fingers. Bile fills my throat, and I manage to find the bathroom, vomiting as soon as I fall to my knees in front of the toilet. Someone shouts in disgust from the hallway; a cool hand presses to my forehead, and I turn my head to stare up at Max. Sonia stands right behind her. Both of them look worried.

“You okay, girl?”

I nod shakily and slowly stand. “I, uh, I think I’m gonna go home.”

“Want us to stay with you until your ride gets here?”

“Nah, y’all stay. It won’t take her long.”

“Okay.”

I push past my friends, hurry down the hallway and avoid looking into the bedroom I left Jacob in. Nobody looks twice at me as I push past them and stumble out the front door. The noise from the party echoes even after I can no longer see the lights from the house through the dark. I pull my phone from my pocket, pleasantly surprised underneath all the disgust and fear that it's still with me. Unfortunately, the battery is at twenty percent. I lock the device again and set out in what I hope is the direction of home. There are fifteen miles between the two houses, but I would gladly walk it barefoot if it meant not being around Jacob anymore. Even the thought of his name sends icy shivers down my spine.

Darkness presses on in all sides of me. The katydids scream from the trees, and the grinding chirp of crickets and grasshoppers join the cacophony. I tremble all over at every shadow or shifting of branches, petrified that Jacob has come after me. Thunder rumbles, and lightning forks across the sky. I huddle further into my jacket and pull out my phone, finding the number and pressing the device to my ear. My breath rattles out of my chest; I shiver violently at the gust of wind that blows against me. The gravel crunches under my boots; something rustles in the woods to my right, and my throat tightens. The world spins and dips around me, and I force down the stomach acid trying to come up. The tears fall faster the longer the line rings and rings without answer. Fear and panic nearly overwhelm me when the voicemail picks up.

“Hey, uh… God, Bri, I’m sorry. I know you’re not talking to me, but-but Bri, I really need you. I need my best friend. So fucking much. Please… can you please call me back? I - I went to a party, and I, _fuck_,” I hiss as my ankle twists on a rock; I kick at the side of the road and bite back a scream, sobbing, “goddamn it, Brianna, why aren’t you here? I need you, and I know I fucked up everything up, but I need you here. Please call me back. Please.”

**[Brianna’s POV]**  
“You know damn well you’re going to listen to that,” whispers Louis, and I drop my phone quickly, like it's scalded me.

“No, I’m not. I still haven’t forgiven her.”

“Look, I understand that, okay? I do. What she said was completely out of line. But, love… She _called_. When has Koty ever actually called you on something other than Skype?” He nudges me gently. “Just listen to it, yeah? Then you can figure out what to do from there.”

I think back to all the phone conversations I’ve had with my best friend since I left Tennessee; he’s right. She always texts me on Kik or calls me through Skype so neither of us get long-distance charges that we can’t afford. I grip Louis’s hand tightly in my left even as I press on the voicemail icon, switch to speakerphone. The audio message is filled with static and a low booming followed by a loud crack. Then, DJ’s voice comes on the line, and fear takes hold of me, doesn’t let me go, as she speaks. My eyes burn when the tears fall, but I can't stop staring at the screen of my phone as DJ’s voice, so frightened and in pain and wobbly, echoes in the silence of our bedroom.

The instant the message ends, I shove myself out of bed and to the closet. I know about half of the clothes I grab aren't really mine, but I can't care less as I toss them onto the mattress. Louis helps by dragging a suitcase out from under the bed, shoving the clothes haphazardly inside. I run down the stairs to shove my feet into a pair of tennis shoes - the size of the sneakers tells me they're probably his. He follows with my suitcase, pushing me impatiently toward the door.

The ride to the airport is full of silence and my racing thoughts. What happened with DJ? I chew at the edge of my fingernails, and Louis is just as scared as I am if he isn't going to scold me for picking the habit back up after so long of not doing it. He reaches over and grabs my free hand, and I cling to him.

“I managed to get you on the next flight out,” he says as he speeds through a yellow light. “It leaves in an hour and a half, so no goodbyes, okay? The boarding pass is in your email.”

I nod shakily. I nearly throw up in the passenger seat, not helped at all by the way he takes a corner sharply enough that I’m terrified the tires are leaving the ground, but I swallow it down and try to make a joke, “That must have cost a fortune.”

“Just make sure our girl is all right, and we’ll call it even.”

We don’t speak until he screeches to a stop in the drop-off lane in front of the airport. I lean over and kiss him quickly, and he gives me a reassuring smile before I rush out of the car. I barely remember to grab my luggage. Thankfully, the fact that I’m literally running through the airport at eight-thirty in the morning seems to be the signal for everyone to get the Hell out of my way. I can’t stand still as I wait in line to board, shifting from foot to foot and glaring if someone makes a comment under their breath at my impatience. All calls to DJ’s phone go straight to voicemail.

Boarding brings no relief; now I'm stuck in this damn plane for over ten hours, and I can't check in on my best friend. I don't have Anna’s number, so calling her is out of the question, and I deleted my FaceBook when I left Tennessee. My knee jumps as the flight attendant goes through the safety spiel. I'm too worried about Deej that I don't even get that nervous flutter I usually do when the plane taxis down the tarmac before lifting off.

_Hold tight, DJ, I'm on my way. _


	14. I'm Glad You Called

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _the call_ matt kennon

I tug the blankets over my head, ignore the footsteps coming down the stairs. I haven’t left my bed since I got home around four-thirty this morning; I don’t even know what time it is now, but it’s the least of my worries. Minute shivers run through my body even with the sweatpants, long-sleeved shirt, and hoodie I’m wearing, not to mention the thick comforter I currently have myself buried under. I know I should get up and use the bathroom before I pee the bed. Moving just seems like such monumental work. The mattress dips by my knees, and slender fingers tug gently at the edge of the blanket, pulling it away from my face.

“Oh, Deej…”

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the tears still leak out. Brianna climbs into the bed behind me, and her arm immediately drapes over my waist. She holds me tightly and whispers comfortingly to me as I shake and break apart. I didn’t think I could possibly have more tears to cry, but I’m certainly being proved wrong. I can’t breathe, my nose is too stuffed and my lungs feel four sizes smaller than they should be. Brianna’s hand cards through my hair. I can feel her trembling against my back and realise she’s crying with me. Everything I feel is threatening to overwhelm me, to drown me and swallow me whole, but I know that as long as Bri is here, I’m safe.

“DJ, can you talk to me?” she asks after my tears have stopped, and I hiccup but shake my head. “Okay. That’s okay.”

The world seems to slow down; nothing seems to matter outside of the way my entire core has been shattered, the comfort and strength Brianna offers, and how badly I yearn to turn back time and never come home from London. I did, though, and I went to that party. I went and now, I'm left to pick up the pieces of myself. Disgust coats every broken edge. I don't deserve to feel like this - it was my choice that led to this outcome, and he didn't really do anything that should have damaged me this much. Guilt slithers its way into my cracks, reminding me that my best friend is only here because she's a better person than I am. I cover my face with my arms, exhale a tremulous breath, and tell Bri what happened at the party.

I don't have the strength to fight off her hands as she forcibly rolls me to face her, and the look on her face would scare me if I could feel anything other than the everlasting torment and self-loathing that has taken up residence in my soul. Her eyes burn fiercely, promise retribution of biblical proportions, but her fingers are gentle, so gentle, as she cups my cheeks. She doesn't let me look away from her.

“I am so sorry you had to go through that. What's his name? I'll kill him for you, then I'll come back here and hold you through everything until you're better.”

“It's -”

“I swear to God, if you say it's fine, I'm liable to smack the lovin’ shit outta you.” _And there's that wonderful drawl_, I think idly under everything else that occupies my mind. “It is _not_ okay, what he did. None of it is. Okay? No, honey, don’t shake your head at me. He is despicable and vile and less than the scum of the Earth, and I am going to kill him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I finally manage to croak out.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘it doesn’t matter’?”

I shrug awkwardly, wiping my cheeks and under my nose with the sleeve of my hoodie. “I’m never going to have to see him again.”

“Deej, don’t tell me…”

“I sent admissions an email this morning telling them I’m dropping out.”

“Why would you do that? Why are you giving up on your dream and not going after this guy for what he did?”

“It’s not like it’s important.”

“Dakota James, you wanting to be a nurse is absolutely important. You were supposed to be the next Carla Espinoza. You getting justice against him is _definitely_ important.”

“Things change, Bri.” Sighing, I burrow deeper into the blankets and peer up at her through my lashes, muttering, “I’m just… I can’t do it. If I can’t - can’t get one guy to, to not t-touch me…”

Her arms immediately encircle me, and I don’t even care that her breasts are smashed against my face; I just sob in her arms, though very few tears come. I’m all cried out, no more to give, but the pain is still swirling wildly below the surface. I know Brianna’s anger masks how utterly worried she is about me - I can’t handle it right now. And the fact that, even after I said what I did, she was still willing to get on a flight to be here with me… it should be comforting to know that she loves and cares for me that much, but all it does is make me feel worse about everything that’s happened over the last month. Between the memory of the last night I spent in London and all the laughing and joking I did with Jacob, I can’t see the way out of this pit. And maybe - just maybe - I deserve to be here.

Brianna forces me out of bed once I start squirming to get my mind off of how full my bladder is. When I exit the bathroom, she points to the clothes on the bed, and I don't try to argue. I just change, thanking her silently for at least letting me dress in yoga pants and a clean hoodie. She grabs my hand, squeezes gently, and leads me up the stairs. The kitchen is illuminated by the overhead lights but empty; the sound of the evening news comes from the living room, and I can hear Anna laughing from the back patio. Bri shoves me without malice toward a dining chair. She sets a bowl of oatmeal on the table in front of me once I sit, then sits across me from. Eating with her watching me so intently is an awkward task, but mentioning it will only end poorly, so I choke down bite after bite of the apple-cinnamon mush, though it has the same flavour and consistency of sawdust on my tongue. An errant connection makes itself in my brain, and I spit out the mouthful back into the bowl, gagging at the way it reminds me too much of the taste of Jacob’s tongue against mine.

“I can’t eat,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

Brianna’s brows furrow, but she seems to accept it, taking the bowl away. I wince at the screech of the spoon against porcelain as she scrapes the oatmeal into the trash. I follow her blindly when she makes her way to the living room. My mom looks up from the television, smiles.

“Hey, look who’s awake!”

“Hi, Mama.”

“How was the party?”

I swallow down the bile, forcing a smile. “It was great.”

“Anna says you didn’t call for her to come get you.”

“Uh, no, I, um… I got a lift with someone else’s ride.” My stomach churns with the acidity of the lie, and I shift my attention to the screen of the TV. “What’s new in the world today?”

My mom exchanges a look with Bri, but I ignore it in favour of pretending that everything is all right, that I’m not currently falling apart inside for the hundredth time in the last hour. Thankfully, nobody questions it, and I act like I’m listening as my mom tells me about the headlines on the news. It's harder than I anticipated; how can a person hide so much so easily?

Brianna doesn't leave my side over the next few days - no matter what I do or where I go, she is right there with a soft smile and strong arms to hold me. It takes everything I have to not rely too heavily on her embrace. It's just going to hurt like Hell when she leaves again if I do. So I fake smiles in response, try my damnedest to act like I did before that night, anything I can to reassure her that I'll be okay.

“Why don't you come back with me?” she whispers into the dark on her last night, and I close my eyes, stifle a sigh. “Seriously, it would do you good to get away from here.”

“I'll be fine, muffin.”

“Deej, please hear me out. You can study to be a nurse in London, with the added bonus of always seeing my beautiful face and never, _ever_ having to be around that disgusting prick. Lou won't mind. None of the guys will. Hell, they'd love to have you around all the time.”

I shake my head and roll onto my belly, tug the pillow over my head. Her frustration is palpable, and I half-expect for her to forcibly make me listen to her. Instead, she just scoots closer, curls her body around mine, and plays with the ends of my hair as she hums an amalgamation of songs that shouldn't work but somehow does. I slowly drift off to the feeling of being safe - but it doesn't stop the nightmares.


	15. It's Time to Make My Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _jump_ madonna

Anna turns on her heel and stomps back up the stairs. Though her words are muffled by the floor, her irritation is audible in her voice. Something deep in my chest twists in remorse, but it does nothing to push me to move. I just stay curled up on my bed, staring blankly at the wall across from me, and wonder once more when I’m going to feel better. When I’m going to feel whole again. When I’m not going to see _his_ face whenever I close my eyes. To appease my mother’s worry, I’ve made sure to eat the meals she or my sister brings down, and I even talked to my dad on the phone the other day. He’d sounded worried, but he hadn’t pushed me to talk; I’m thankful for it, no matter how badly the words are burning like acid in the back of my throat. Brianna has sent a few text messages, but I still haven’t read any of them. I’m sure it’s bothering her - I just… really don’t care. Not right now.

My routine over the next few weeks doesn’t change much. Sometimes, I lie in bed for an extra thirty minutes before I finally get up to use the bathroom, but for the most part, I stay cocooned in my blankets whenever I’m alone. Anna tries to come down a couple of times to spend time with me, to get me out of my head; she ends up storming away, throwing her hands up in anger and muttering under her breath, each time. The fact that she doesn’t give up, though, warms my heart just a little. My mother learned long ago how to get me to comply with her wishes: Stand over me and fret until I cave and do what she wants. Which is basically the only reason I’ve showered and brushed my teeth recently.

My phone vibrates on the bedside table, and I stare at it. My body ignores the signals my brain is sending, my hand stays loosely curled against the mattress and my arm doesn't move from where it's pressed into my side. The call finally goes to voicemail; I breathe out shakily and close my eyes. Unfortunately, ignoring my phone doesn't work - it starts buzzing and scooting across the nightstand as another call starts up. It takes far more effort than I want to expend, but I manage to pick the device up. _Max_. I sigh and accept the call.

“Hello?”

“Holy shit, girl, where you been? Sonia and I have been worried.”

“I'm at home.”

“Yeah, we figured. Why haven't you shown up to class?”

“I, uh, I dropped out.”

Max goes silent on the other end, and I can almost see the way her brows are furrowed over dark brown eyes, how her lower lip is sucked in between her teeth. After a moment, her sharp exhale crackles down the line. “What happened that night?”

I don't even stop to reconsider before ending the call. I stare at the screen as my chest tightens, and bile creeps up my throat. I swallow thickly and toss my phone away from me. It clatters against the wall, and I tug my blanket up to my chin, ignore the bright light coming from the lamp on the table, and try my best to quell the thoughts struggling to break loose. There’s no success - my brain is suddenly flooded with the memories, and I shove the blankets back, stumbling to my feet and toward the bathroom. Only stomach acid comes up when I try to vomit, then I’m left to dry-heave. I lean against the wall, press my forehead against the cool plaster. The floorboard creaks above me as either my sister or mother move around upstairs. In the five years I’ve had my bedroom in the basement, I have never felt more grateful for the seclusion it provides; if I still shared a room with Anna, I would have to deal with questions - or worse, their concern - more so than I already have been.

“Okay, I’ve had it,” Anna announces after three days of my isolation, before her footsteps thunder down the staircase; I look away from the cobwebb in the corner of my ceiling as she appears in my doorway. “You need to get out of bed right now.”

“I’m fine where I am.”

She throws her hands into the air, groaning, and moves to sit on the edge of my mattress. “Look, Deej, I know I don’t know what happened that night, and you don’t have to tell me. All I know is, is ever since you came home from that party? We haven’t really seen you.” Anna sighs, wraps her fingers around my ankle. The comfort is appreciated, even through the thick blanket. “You’re not acting like yourself. You aren’t my sister any more, and God, DJ… that really scares me.”

The silence once she finishes speaking weighs heavily, almost tangible in its deafening existence. My vision blurs, but I can’t blink away the tears. Words well up in my throat, desperate to get out. No matter how hard I try, they won’t be corralled. I sniffle, drawing in a ragged breath.

“I’m scared of myself,” I finally manage to whisper, and the admission hurts more than I feel it should. “I’m scared of my thoughts when I’m alone.”

“You don’t think about killing yourself, do you?” she asks quietly after a long pause.

I immediately shake my head but then pause, thinking. “Not really, no.”

“Maybe you should go live with Bri for a year, find yourself again.”

“Banana…”

“No. I’m serious. Obviously, getting out of this town is the smart choice, the miracle cure. I mean, look at Brianna. Look at what she’s done with her life since she escaped. Look at how happy and strong and full of life she is now that this place is no longer holding her back or dragging her down. Just six months, okay? That’s all I ask. Don’t worry about me or Mama or Daddy. Focus on you. Focus on becoming DJ again.”

My sister stands then, rounding my bed to kiss my cheek; she doesn’t make a comment about the stickiness of my skin from sweat or the filthy state of my hair. I listen to her make her way up the stairs, the door closing with a soft click, the steady quiet _thump-creak-thump_ as she heads toward the living room. My mind mulls over what she said - she’s certainly right about Brianna. Ever since Bri left Tennessee behind, she’s done well for herself. And maybe Anna is right about it possibly helping me more. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be the same DJ that I was before that party - Hell, before my parents announced they were divorcing. The DJ I’m becoming, however, is frightening enough that it’s easier to consider the suggestion.

The thought of being over four thousand miles away from him is a pleasant one. The tightness in my chest eases just a little, the vice-like feeling I’ve grown accustomed to no longer suffocating me completely. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. I gave up on a dream because of that asshole. Do I really want to let him control my future by remaining in my hometown, by maintaining my status as victim?

  
**.....................**

Brianna is breathing steadily, evenly, as the video call connects. I brush a lock of hair out of my face and force a smile. Her hazel eyes glitter in the glare from her computer screen, and my chin wobbles at the sight of the tears.

“Don’t you dare cry, you bitch, or you’ll make me cry.”

She lets her head fall back, and I watch her scrub her hands over her eyes. “Sorry, sorry. I just… I’ve missed your face. I’ve been so worried about you.”

“I’m, I’m okay. I think. Anyway. Uh, I have a question.”

“What’s up, buttercup?”

“Is that offer of me coming to stay with you still valid?”


	16. So What Does It Take to Start Over Again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _ready for change_ ben rector

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?” Brianna narrows her eyes, peers closer at me. “Did you really think I’d say ‘Absolutely not, you’re never welcome here again, how dare you ask me that’?”

I shrug awkwardly and scratch at an itchy spot on my leg. “I mean, it’s been, what, nearly a month since you offered? I didn’t know if maybe you had other things to do that would mean I couldn’t come.”

“Oh, you dumb, dumb child. Look, Deej, no matter what you decide, I’m gonna support you a million percent, okay?”

“Thanks,” I mumble to my knees; my best friend giggles softly. “So, uh… how is everybody?”

She launches into telling me about how the guys are touring now, so the house is quiet and lonely; guilt tugs at my heartstrings when I remember I haven't responded to any texts from Harry or Niall since the night of the party, and I know there are plenty of them sitting unread in my inbox. I push myself to my feet, and Bri doesn't slow down in her speaking, even when I disappear from the frame. As she vents about the newbie at work, I scroll through my messages.

**From: Harry** _Hey, hope you're doing okay. Louis told us something happened and that Bri is on her way to you. Please let me know if you're all right._  
**From: Harry** _Koty? It's been a few days, and none of us have heard from you. Bri said you're alive but not doing well. Is there anything I can do to help you?_  
**From: Harry** _I'm getting really worried. Bri sent us photographic proof that you're still alive but I'd rather hear it from you. Please text me back? _  
**From: Harry** _We're heading out on tour. Normally I would be ecstatic but I'm too concerned about you. Text me. _

**From: Niall** _Harry is driving me up the wall. Can you please message him back so he'll leave me alone?_  
**From: Niall** _I'm joking. Kind of. But seriously. We're all really worried and would love to hear from you. Miss your face!!!_

**From: Maxalicious** _Heyyy. Why aren't you in class? _  
**From: Maxalicious** _Wait, let me guess. Hungover? LOL. Don't worry. I'll let you borrow my notes. _

**From: Sonny-babe** _Hope ur feeling better! U looked like shiiiiit when u left the party so I kno u probably feel worse today lol._

“Are you even listening to me?” Brianna scolds, and I jerk my gaze up from my phone, smiling sheepishly. She rolls her eyes, but I can see the way her lips are twitching. “You bitch. Did you hear _anything_ I said?”

“Uh, not past the idiot destroying the display case because he decided to play frisbee with a CD case.”

“That was, like, ten minutes ago, what the Hell, Deej?”

“Sorry, I was reading my texts. I haven’t really been keeping up with it,” I add on a mutter.

She sighs, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, and grins. “It’s okay. So when are you planning on coming?”

“I have no idea, to be honest. I figured I’d do the research and stuff tonight, figure out what the plan is from there.”

“Okay. Keep me updated. But I’d better get off here. I gotta get to work. But hey, Dakky?” I groan at the use of my childhood nickname - the one only she has ever used, even though it’s been literal years since she last called me that - and the smile she gives me isn’t nearly as innocent as she would like to believe. “I’m proud of you, you know that, right?”

We hang up a minute later, and I look around my bedroom, wonder how I’m going to tell my family about my plans. Eventually, I decide that can wait until later; I shuffle to the closet to grab a fresh change of clothes then make my way to the bathroom. I grimace at the stench of body odour as I pull my t-shirt over my head. I probably should have taken a shower yesterday. Or the day before. I make quick work of washing my hair and scrubbing my body; I feel at least five pounds lighter as I step out of the tub, and I hurry to dress in the leggings and black long-sleeved shirt I brought into the bathroom with me.

Once I have a load of laundry in the washing machine, I sigh heavily and flip down onto my bare mattress, tugging my laptop closer so I can bring up an internet window. I check my bank balance and compare it to the cost of a flight to the UK. It's gonna be tight, but I can definitely swing it. I bite my lip as I Google visa requirements to move to London, currency exchange rate. I know most of this research is unnecessary - I looked it all up when I went to visit Bri the first time - but it keeps my mind off the fact that I'm going to have to talk to my family. Soon.

Packing takes less time than I anticipated, even with how much I try to stretch the task. Finally, I roll the last pair of jeans around the T-shirt, socks, and underwear; I shove it into my suitcase with the rest of the nine outfits and four pairs of pyjamas, zip the case closed, and set it against the wall. Footstep cross the floor above me, and I draw in a steadying breath when I hear Anna’s voice. I know I can't put this off any longer.

My mom and sister are sitting at the dining table by the time I force myself up the stairs and into the kitchen. Mama smiles at me and holds up a box of cereal. I shake my head, lowering myself into the chair on her right.

“I… I'm sorry for how I've been acting lately,” I start shakily; Mama’s brows furrow, but I push on. If she speaks now, I'll lose all confidence. “I, okay, I know I should have been open with you both, tell you guys what was going on, but… I couldn’t. I barely wanted to admit anything to myself. I don’t want to talk about it right now, so, uh, please don’t make me?” My laugh is weak to my own ears. “But I’ve come to the decision that, well, I’m going to go back to Bri’s and, uh, basically figure myself out again.”

Anna’s grin is wide, victorious, _proud_. Mama, on the other hand, looks like she’s been slapped in the face with a fish; she gapes at me, and I squirm under the scrutiny. After a few minutes, she finds her voice.

“Why?”

“Because being here is just going to remind me of things I’d rather forget.”

“So you’re going to run off and be four thousand miles away from your family, all because you don’t like this town?”

“Mama, I’ll come back. I promise. I just, I need to get away for just a bit. I won’t be gone forever.”

Mama sighs, turns to look at Anna. “And you’re okay with this?”

“At least she’s telling us _before_ disappearing,” my sister replies with a shrug.

“We’ll see what your dad has to say about this.”

My mother pushes herself to her feet and exits the kitchen without a backwards look. Anna reaches across the table, squeezes my hand in hers, and focuses on eating her breakfast. The clock on the wall ticks in the quiet, and I pick at my nails as I think about how my father might react to the news of me leaving again. At least this time, I won't be asking him for money, so maybe he won't be as upset as Mama is.

There aren't many people in the airport. Anna’s arm is looped in mine, her head bouncing against my shoulder with each step we take. Mama trails behind us as Daddy pushes the cart with my suitcase. Awkwardness wraps itself around me; I hadn't expected them all to come see me off, especially since everything is still so tense between us. My dad hadn’t flown off the handle after he found out, and that seems to have made my mother more distraught. I think she was hoping he'd convince me not to go. Anna has been more excited about my move than even I am, I think; every time we've been in the same room, she's told me various random facts about London, taken candid photos of me no matter what I was doing - even though I made her delete the picture of me in just a towel after my shower, distracted by the text I'd just gotten from Max wishing me the best.

My flight is called over the loudspeaker, the voice warped and scratchy. I bite my lip and turn toward my family. Mama sighs, and though her eyes are dark with worry and sadness, her arms are warm, tight, as they wrap around me. I sink into the embrace, hug her back just as tight. Dad hands me a card from his wallet and tells me it's just until I get on my feet. I tuck the credit card and paper with the information on it into my own wallet, let him sweep me into a bone-crushing hug, and then face Anna. She grins widely and puts her hands on my shoulders.

“I am so proud of you for doing this, Deej. Seriously. Have fun. Find yourself.”

I wave at my family as the attendant looks over my passport and boarding pass. Once both are handed back to me, I inhale slowly then let it out before stepping forward into the terminal. Finding my seat is easy enough; I sit, put my foot through the strap of my backpack and adjust the bag so it's between my legs, and settle in to wait as other fliers board and find their places. Though I know it's the same spiel as last time, I don't let my mind wander while the flight attendants give the safety speech. Thankfully, it doesn't drag on, and I grip my armrests tightly as the plane taxis down the tarmac and finally lifts off the ground.

**... ... ... ...**

The sky threatens rain, grey clouds and a gloomy chill in the air, and I exhale sharply, tug my jacket closer around me. The weather combined with the fact it's just after six in the morning makes for a miserable time spent standing on the front stoop. My knuckles already ache from knocking so many times, but I do it again anyway. This time, though, I hear someone shouting on the other side of the door. The voice comes closer, and to my immense surprise, Harry stands on the other side, his grumbling abruptly dying out as he stares at me. His face splits into a grin and, before I can blink, I'm dragged into a tight hug.

“What are you doing here?” he whispers against my neck, and I wiggle out of his arms.

“Bri, uh, offered to let me live with them for a while after…” I trail off, unsure of what to say; Harry’s lips pull down into a frown, but I ignore it, pushing on. “And I decided to take her up on it. So here I am!”

“Oh, Hell, get in here, you're soaked.”

“And very, very cold.”

He shuts the door behind us, and I push my suitcase to the side so we won’t trip on it before shrugging off my jacket. I follow him down the hall to the living room. He flops down onto the sofa, stretching out, and I roll my eyes when he pats the cushion next to him. Yawning with the exhaustion I've been ignoring, I lie down next to him; he pulls the throw blanket off the back of the couch, tosses it over us. We both shift around until my back is comfortably against his chest, our legs pressed together, and his arm under my head. I let out a trembling breath, yawn again, and slowly fall asleep as his warmth washes over me.


	17. Turn It Around with Another Round

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _cheers (i drink to that)_ rihanna

The screech sounds again, and I twist my face up as I try to ignore it, try to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, that hope is destroyed by the fact that the blanket is suddenly ripped off of me and I’m assaulted by cold air. Groaning, I roll over - and hit the floor. My breath gets knocked out of me; I groan as I struggle to breathe properly. This is made impossible by a solid weight on my back, and Brianna squeals once more, her arms snaking around my middle.

“You're here, you're here, you're _here_! When did you arrive? Does your family know? How did you get here?”

I manage to roll until she falls off of me, and Louis reaches out a hand to pull me to my feet. His greeting is much less exuberant - a simple hug - and I turn back to Bri, still sprawled on the floor. “Got here around six. Woke poor Haz up by knocking on the door for who knows how long. Yes, my family knows. They're the ones who dropped me off at the airport. And I caught a cab to bring me here.”

“Ugh, I am so glad you came!” Brianna bounces to her feet, grabs up my hands, and jumps with a wide grin on her face. “Seriously, Deej, it's gonna be a blast. C’mon, time to make breakfast.”

I stare after her as she bounds away to the kitchen then look at Louis with a raised brow. “Has she had coffee yet?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, today is going to be _fun_.”

His laughter follows me to where my best friend is dancing, her hips swaying side to side, as she rummages through the cupboards. I lean against the wall and watch; my heart hurts much less this time around, there's no residual guilt from disappearing in the night. Even though my mother is unhappy with my decision, I can't say that I regret it at all. Bri glances at me from over her shoulder and shakes her ass with an exaggerated wink. A giggle bubbles up out of me, and I manage to feel a sense of peace that I haven't felt in over a month. That night is out of the forefront of my min, tucked away and hidden, and there is nothing to stop me from relishing this moment.

It takes Brianna less than a week to decide that she should invite everyone over, buy out an entire liquor store’s supply of beer and whisky, and spend the entire day making up snack platters and baked goods. She doesn't let me help except to make sure there are plenty of napkins and soda for chasers; my protest is mostly for show - I'm not a whiz in the kitchen like she is, and I really don't want to deal with screwing something up. So I drag Niall and Harry with me to the market to get more non-alcoholic drinks and an enormous bag of Starbursts, then we waste away a few hours separating the candies. Niall gives me a wounded look when I smack his hand away from the pink ones, and my apology comes in the form of dumping three yellow ones into the pile in front of him. He grins widely, and I rest my head on his shoulder as I unwrap the candy and pop it into my mouth.

Eventually, the sun begins to set, and Brianna rushes into the living room. I watch her plug her phone into the stereo system; _In Da Club_ comes bumping from the speakers, and she tugs me to my feet. I laugh out loud, pulling my head back to prevent eating her hair as she begins to dance against me. Niall joins us soon enough, and I find myself sandwiched between the two, being rocked back and forth with their movements. I let loose and start moving with them. I have little coordination, really, but I don't care. It feels fantastic to be doing this with Brianna. A small part of me is terrified - it keeps trying to remind me of the last time I drank - but I push it down. _I trust these people_, I tell the fear, and though that worry shrinks, it doesn't disappear completely. The song comes to an end, and I pull away to grab a shot glass from the tray on the coffee table. Hesitating just for a second, I shrug and fill it with whisky, grinning at Bri’s whoop of delight as I swallow it down in one go.

I lose track of time the more I drink, and a floating sensation has taken up residence inside of me as I sway to _Gotta Be You_, giggle at the way my best friend’s voice slurs and cracks as she tries to hit the high notes. Harry’s face screws up in his distaste at how awful she sounds. I stumble my way to his side where he's sitting on the sofa, and he opens his arms to let me fall into him. I squeak when my Jack and Coke threatens to spill from the top of my cup, but thankfully, it stays where it should be. I give him a wide, sloppy smile.

“Hi!”

“Having fun?”

“Absofuckinglutely!” I snuggle further into his side and stare around at our friends. “These losers stopped drinkin’.”

“No, they haven't. They've just stopped dancing like fools.”

I gasp, press my hand to my chest. “Why, Harold, are you saying Bri and I are fools?”

“Not at all. I said you're dancing like fools.”

“Semantics,” I retort with a vague wave of my hand and a derisive snort.

We fall silent as Louis’s shout of “What the fuck!” drowns out the sound of Rihanna singing about the freakin’ weekend and Jameson, and I can't stop the giggle as Niall does a victory dance and falls to the side. He pouts but pushes himself to sit upright and takes a long drink of his beer. My eyes catch on Liam, and I frown at the tightness around his mouth and eyes. His gaze doesn't lift from the screen of his phone, and his fingers fly over the screen as he types out a message. Inhaling unsteadily, I glance up at Harry.

“I don't think Liam likes me,” I mutter before swallowing down the disappointment with whisky and soda.

“Ah, that's not it at all.”

“Then why hasn’t he spoke to me all night?”

Harry sighs, his fingers coming up to twirl the ends of my hair, and I close my eyes. “He's… Don’t take it personally, love. He's been dating someone, and lately, the relationship has hit a rough patch. It's nothing to do with you.”

“Can I tell you somethin’?”

“Always.” He nudges me when I don't speak, distracted by the way Liam is now chewing at his lower lip. “Koty?”

“Oh! Right! Oops, sorry.”

Brianna rolls her eyes at my too-loud voice but turns back to her conversation with Zayn. Someone throws a chip at my face, and I gasp in mock-outrage before grabbing it off my shirt where it landed and popping it into my mouth. I grimace at the sharpness of the vinegar and salt but crunch down on it anyway. With a sigh, I let my head drop against Harry’s chest, smile at the strong heartbeat beneath my ear.

“I don't think he's ever liked me,” I admit quietly; his hand drags lightly over my hair, and I heave out a sigh. “Like, before. He didn' really talk to me then, either. He’d, y’know, be nice and all, but he never started conversations or anythin’.”

Harry stays quiet for a long moment, then he shrugs, my head jolting with the motion. “I honestly have no idea. You'll have to talk to him about that.”

My disappointment grows at the lack of new information. I knew, logically, that actually having this conversation with Liam is the better idea, but I honestly hoped that Harry could have provided some insight. I finish off my drink in hopes that it will prevent the words I want to say from coming out, and Harry helps push me to my feet. I wobble slightly as I cross the room to where the liquor is, my lower lip jutting out at the sight of the nearly-empty bottles. We’ve only been drinking for - _Oh_, I think when I check the time. It's nearing two in the morning, and we opened the bottles around six-thirty. I dump the rest of the Jack Daniels into my glass, pout further when it isn't enough for my liking, but toss it back anyway.

When I finally stumble up the stairs to my room, the world is spinning at the edges, and Harry’s hands are gentle yet firm as he guides me and keeps me on my feet. He waits until I've flopped onto the bed to close the door with a soft _Goodnight and sweet dreams, Koty_. I smile into my pillow, tug the blankets up around my shoulders, and let my drunken thoughts roll around in my brain, lull me to sleep.


	18. All is Good and Nothingness is Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _one headlight_ the wallflowers

Waking up to pale green walls and weak sunlight has quickly become normal, comforting. I roll over in bed and stretch my arms and legs out, groaning happily when my back pops. My phone vibrates on the nightstand, and I stare at it for a moment then scoop it up and unlock it.

**From: bananna** _Hope you're excited for today! _  
**From: bananna** _If you don't send pictures, I'll kick your rear the next time I see you!_

I laugh and send back a thumbs up emoji. Her text reminds me of the plans for today, and a sinking sensation fills my gut. Brianna had waited until I was half-asleep last night to spring the idea on me, knowing I wouldn't be thinking clearly due to fatigue. I'd agreed just to get her to shut up and let me go to bed; it had registered in my brain after an hour, and I had gone to her door and knocked obnoxiously until she answered, angry and naked under the sheet she had wrapped around herself.

“We’re going _hiking_?”

“Yes. Now go, or there _will_ be dire consequences. ‘Kay? Thanks. Bye.”

To say I'm displeased with the thought of walking around in nature all day is an understatement. If I wanted to see trees and birds, I would have stayed back in Tennessee. I grumble even as I push the blankets back and force myself out of my nice, warm bed. After I use the bathroom and wash my hands, I make my way down the stairs to the kitchen. The room is empty, but I know it's a matter of time before the others will wake up. I'm proven right by the thundering footsteps coming down the stairs twenty minutes later. I look up from my scrambled eggs to see Niall round the corner. He grins tiredly and makes a beeline for the cabinet with the cereal. Shortly after he sits down, the rest of the group files one by one into the kitchen; a yawning Harry rubs at his eyes as he shuffles toward the table. I yelp and swat at his back when he tries to sit on me.

“Not a chair, Haz! Not a chair!”

His green eyes narrow in confusion. “When did you get there?”

“I've _been_ here, thank you very much. Here, you obviously need the seat more than I do.”

I press a kiss to his curls once he's sat, and I see the flash of his sleepy grin before his forehead thunks against the tabletop. Moving around the guys is almost choreographed, a well-known dance that I've come to expect over the last month or so. Bri growls at me as I pass her, and I bare my teeth in response and duck out of the kitchen, hurrying up the stairs to get dressed for the day. Changing my pyjamas for a pair of floral-print denim shorts and a plain white tank-top, I head to the bathroom to bush my teeth and wet my hair down so I can braid it. Zayn barges in just as I've finished tying off the plait. I mutter under my breath as I step into the hallway, jump when the door slams shut behind me.

“Cranky prick,” I mumble and make my way down the stairs.

It's at least another hour before anyone else is ready to go. I spend the time flipping mindlessly through the channels on the television, nothing catching my attention. Eventually, though, all seven of us have our shoes on and small backpacks filled with snacks and bottles of water on our backs, and we gather by the front door. Brianna checks that we all have our phones (“Just in case. I don't wanna deal with any of you idiots getting lost because you don't know how to stay as a group.”) then claps her hands in excitement.

“Yay, rah, let's go,” I deadpan, pumping my fist into the air with little emotion.

She crosses her eyes at me but doesn't say anything, just shoos us out the door. There's a slight bite to the air, and I turn my face toward the sun above for a moment before letting Bri shove me toward the car. I turn to buckle my seatbelt and immediately get an ass in my face; I roll my eyes, smack at Niall’s butt, and giggle as he yelps. Once he’s seated in the third row, he leans over the back of my seat and glares at me without any heat. His face suddenly splits with his grin, and he flicks my forehead with his index finger before sitting back in his seat. I gape at him over my shoulder, but he doesn’t look away from where he’s buckling up. A snort to my right causes me to turn to face the front, and Bri winks at me from the passenger seat then barks out an order for Zayn to “obey the safety rules of the vehicular, Malik!”

I stare out the window as Louis drives us to wherever we’re going. I don’t even really want to go hiking, but at least it might keep me out of my head for a while. Memories have started to resurface again, and while I’ve kept them tucked away, safe from examination, they have grown more persistent in their determination to escape. I’m just glad that I haven’t woken up the others because of the nightmares. It has been incredibly difficult, and I know I shouldn’t shy away from confronting everything. I just… I can’t handle it right now. Harry helps me out of the car, and I turn to pull my bag out of the footwell as Niall rolls over the seat-back. I blink owlishly at the blond before shaking my head. It isn’t worth questioning right now.

Brianna leads the group toward the trail, and I stare out at the stretch of green surrounding us. I have to admit - the scenery is peaceful, nothing but us in the expanse of blue and emerald. I nudge my shoulder against Harry’s, and he grins and pushes back. Birds call out to each other in the trees; I draw in a deep breath, relish the scent of fresh air and damp earth. We get fifteen minutes into the walk before both Niall and Louis can no longer remain mature adults: Louis flings leaves and clumps of grass into Harry's face, while Niall ruffles with his curly hair. Harry hurriedly passes his bag over to me and takes off, chasing our two friends, their screams and threats echoing over the land. I roll my eyes but don't make any move to walk faster. My body doesn't need to be pushed to the limit like that, not this soon into the hike. When I look up from my feet again, it's to see Liam walking by my side; I frown to myself, knowing he was up with Brianna and Zayn not even thirty seconds ago. He smiles at me, and my heart catches in my throat.

“Is… is there a problem between us?” I ask after what feels like forever but is probably more like thirty minutes.

“Of course not,” he responds immediately; he sighs, hefts his backpack further onto his shoulders. “Not one you need to worry about, anyway. It's my issue, so…”

I stare at him for a moment then nod succinctly. What can I possibly say to that? We fall silent again, both of us lost in our own thoughts. My head snaps up when someone screeches loudly, and a laugh is ripped from me at the sight of Brianna covered in mud. She glares at me, and even from this distance, I fear the retribution. Unfortunately, she has no compunction about revenge, and I shove Harry's bag into Liam’s arms before launching into a run. I can hear her footsteps pounding against the dirt behind me. Even more problematic for me is the fact that Louis doesn’t hesitate to team up with his girlfriend against me, and I can’t outrun them both. That doesn’t mean I don’t try, though, weaving through the rest of our friends and spinning around Bri or Lou when they get close enough. It doesn’t take long for the three of us to collapse into a pile on the trail, filthy and sweaty; I’m laughing hard enough that my eyes water, my lungs burn. As I lie there on the ground, panting heavily, I stare at the sky above and realise something important: I feel alive.


	19. Got a Secret - Can You Keep It?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _secret_ the pierces

I flop onto my bed, pull my laptop closer, and type _netflix_ into the search bar as I eat the yogurt I brought upstairs with me. Nothing on the recommended screen catches my attention, so I go back to my staple show: _The Office_. I queue it up from the pilot episode and settle into the mattress further while Michael Scott talks to Jim Halpert about his quarterlies. I scoop another spoonful of yogurt into my mouth, cringe at the awkward jokes Michael makes even though he's not funny.

Brianna is working the closing shift tonight, and the guys left for their tour almost two weeks ago, which means I'm alone. It isn't so bad, really, especially since my days are filled with work. I've only been with the agency for a few days now, but I already really like this job. It feels great to be employed again, and the fact that I'm helping people makes it all that much better. It's still surprising, though, that I managed to even land an interview, let alone the job itself. The owner of the agency had filled out all the necessary paperwork for me to get a work visa, taking all the stress and worries off of me.

My heart aches at the memory of Bea, the way her face fell when her nephew never showed like he promised. She'd been looking forward to his company since before I became her aide, and the fact that the time came and went without sight of him had hurt even me. She put on a strong front, however, and said it was okay, he was just busy. I still wanted to find him and kick his ass for hurting his great-aunt like that. She's a sweet old lady who doesn't deserve to be let down that way. So after my shift was over, I'd texted my boss and asked if I could stay for a bit - off the clock - and spent another three hours playing board games and listening to Bea’s stories about her life. It was a pleasant way to pass the afternoon, and I am honestly looking forward to seeing her again in a couple of days.

Tomorrow is going to be more difficult, I know. But I push that thought aside and let the antics of my show push me into a mindless lull, one in which I don't think about anything other than laughing at Jim’s pranks.

Brianna is still sleeping by the time I slip out of the house the next morning. After I slide into the backseat of the waiting taxi, I send a quick text to her telling her good morning and that I'd see her after work. The ride to James and Dorothy’s is silent; the driver doesn't speak as he makes his way through the streets. I sit back, watch the buildings and faces blur past. Amari waits on the front stoop when the car comes to a stop, and I thank the driver before getting out. He pulls away as soon as the door is closed. I scrunch up my nose at his impatience but make my way up the sidewalk, stepping carefully over the divots and cracks in the concrete.

“Mornin’, love!”

“Hey, good morning, Amari.” I help her to her feet and breathe deeply, the morning air crisp and somewhat rejuvenating. “Ready for today?”

“‘Course. Just a reminder, Miss Dorothy has an appointment at half eleven. Do you want to take her?”

“Sure, since we all know you don't like doctors’ offices.”

“I'll have you know, those jabs traumatised me.”

I giggle and unlock the front door, and we step into the foyer. The television set in the living room is already on. I wipe the bottom of my shoes on the mat just inside the door before rounding the corner. James sits in his armchair, eyes on the TV, and his hands twist and turn the rubber strip he's holding. Amari had said it seems to help him with maintaining focus, and I desperately wanted to believe her. I just haven't seen any evidence of it. I knock lightly on the doorframe and give James my brightest smile.

“Mornin’ there, Mister James,” I say cheerily; Amari barely manages to stifle her snort of laughter at how awful my put-on accent is. We learned that he didn't trust my American one, so I've spent time learning to speak with a British one. “How would you like some breakfast?”

James grunts quietly but doesn't look away from the show. My grin dims a bit, and I exchange a look with Amari. She shrugs in sympathy.

“Is Miss Dorothy still upstairs, then?”

Another grunt. Amari touches my shoulder and turns on her heel. Her footsteps are nearly silent as she makes her way up the stairs, and I wait until she's disappeared to the upper floor before heading to the kitchen. Once the tea is started, I rummage through the cupboards for the oats I know James will eat and then grab a couple of eggs from the refrigerator. Dorothy cries out from her room; my heart twinges in my chest at the sound. The poor woman is always either in too much pain to move much or, when her arthritis isn't acting up, too weak. It makes me wonder how she's managed to care for her husband for so long. _Will I ever have something like that?_, I wonder as I crack an egg into a bowl. I shake my head violently. I don't need to think about this right now.

Dorothy pants heavily after she's finally situated in the backseat, and I tuck her blanket more securely around her legs. Her gnarled hand clumsily pats at my cheek. I force a smile, close the door, and round the car to slide into the driver’s seat. She doesn't say anything as I drive toward the medical offices; I glance in the rear-view mirror every so often to make sure she's okay, but I don't voice my concerns about her health, no matter how pale and haggard her face is in the reflection.

Thankfully, getting her out of the car is much easier than getting her in. She pulls a face in displeasure but still obediently sits in the wheelchair I've pulled up to the car. It isn't too long of a walk into the building, but I have legitimate doubts that she is going to be able to take the stairs to the second floor or stand in the elevator long enough. Her grumbling is quiet, almost inaudible, as I push the chair toward the doors, and I bite back a smile. Frail though she may be physically, she's still a feisty woman. I love it.

The doctor nods in my direction when he enters the room, but otherwise, that's the most interaction I have with him. He speaks directly to Dorothy, and I know she's thankful to not be treated as an invalid. I make sure to pay attention to the entire conversation, even when she goes off on a tangent about James, and write down everything medically relevant; Amari said the last aide got terminated for not keeping meticulous notes and it causing a catastrophe - he hadn't picked up Dorothy’s new medication because he'd forgotten it was prescribed, and she'd ended up in hospital due to it. I really don't want to get fired in my first week. Besides, I've grown to adore the woman and her husband.

“I want a treat,” announces Dorothy when we’re crossing the parking lot to the car.

“What would you like, ma'am?”

She waves a hand. “I want… a Big Mac.”

“Uh, I, well… I don't think Doctor Hendricks would be okay with that,” I say after a long moment. “He says you're supposed to -”

“I know what he said, love, but I think I've earned it, don't you?”

I stop the wheelchair and pull open the back door to the car. I can see her hopeful expression from the corner of my eye. I sigh.

“We split one, okay? Right down the middle. You get half, I get half. And we _don't_ tell Doctor Hendricks or Miss Amari.”

Dorothy cackles in delight and lets me help her to her feet. She looks triumphant as she settles into the seat, and I can't stop myself from smiling with her. If my coworker or the doctor ever finds out about this, we’re both going to be in a lot of trouble - me, more so than her, since I'm supposed to be the one in charge - but I just can't tell the woman no.

Bag of food in hand, I pull over into a parking spot and pull the sandwich out. Dorothy watches closely as I use the plastic knife provided at my request to cut the sandwich directly down the centre, just like I promised her. We eat in silence, and I catch a glimpse of her face while I wipe my hands with a napkin. Her eyes are closed, a grin tugging at her lips; she looks like a woman who's been pardoned after fifty years on death row, ecstatic and full of life.

“Our secret, right, Miss Dorothy?”

“Our secret, Miss Dakota,” she promises with a wide grin, and I shake my head when I see the bit of sauce at the corner of her mouth.

_Our secret indeed._


	20. Inside the Dark, I'm Aching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _the show must go on_ queen

Bea passes over a small square of chocolate, and I grin widely, popping it into my mouth. Her hands tremble slightly as she places another chunk in the centre of the flat dough then rolls it quickly between her palms. She hands me the ball of dough, and I drop it into a bowl of sugar then set it on the baking sheet with the rest of the half-dozen we’ve already made. Once we’re done forming another fifteen rolls, Bea steps back so I can slide the baking sheet into the preheated oven. I twist the top half of the egg timer until it’s set to fifteen minutes. We wash our hands in silence before making our way out to the garden. I lean against the doorframe and watch carefully as she lowers herself into the chair on the patio. Though there’s a brisk edge to the air, I don’t worry that she’s wanting to relax out here - the fresh air is good for her, and she has a blanket if she gets too chilled.

I go back inside when the timer buzzes loudly from the kitchen. After two minutes, I transfer the cookies to the cooling racks and set the baking sheet aside. My heart feels peaceful for the first time in a long time; I haven’t had any nightmares or memories intruding in the three and a half months that I’ve been here. Having this job, taking care of Bea and James and Dorothy… it’s helped me work through everything a little bit. I still get overwhelmed occasionally with the same disgust and hatred that I felt that night, and for so long afterwards, but it isn’t as incapacitating for as long any more. I sigh heavily and wash the dishes we’ve used, keeping a close eye on Bea through the window over the sink.

For such an old woman, Bea is certainly persistent as she pushes the bag of cookies into my hands before I can leave that afternoon. I relent after five minutes - and her threats to put me to work in her garden if I don’t take the treats - and walk to the waiting cab with a wide smile on my face. It’s been a lovely day; between the baking and chatting as I cleaned up around the house, my mind has been at ease with everything. For once.

It's quiet when I step through the front door, and I blow out a breath as I lean down to slip my shoes off my feet. Nudging them toward the wall, I slowly make my way into the living room, collapsing onto the couch. No matter how good of a day I've had, I'm always so exhausted by the time I get home. It is especially worse on the days that I'm scheduled for Dorothy and James’s, since that shift is a full eight hours - and much more emotionally taxing. Thankfully, I have a few hours now before Bri will be home, so I pull a throw pillow over my eyes, relax into the cushions, and let myself drift.

“The boys are back in town, the boys are back in to-ow-ow-own, the boys are back, the boys are back!”

I toss a chip in Brianna’s direction and roll my eyes. “Would you stop singing that fucking song?”

“No! Thin Lizzy is fantastic, and you should feel awful for telling me not to serenade you with that wonderful song.”

“The boys aren't back, so it doesn't even make sense!”

“_You_ don't make sense.”

“What the actual Hell?”

She ignores me, continuing to sing under her breath, as she pulls the casserole dish from the oven. My mouth waters instantly at the sight of the gooey cheese melted on top, and though I didn't think the kitchen could smell more like heaven, it does. Bri sets the lasagne on top of the stove, ushers me off the counter. I grumble when I realise this means she's not going to let me eat _now_, but she's a stubborn one, so I don't argue. Plus, I know I won't have to wait too long. I grab the bottle of wine from the refrigerator and fill two glasses, while she drizzles dressing over the salad and mixes it up.

Dinner passes quietly; we've said everything we can about work and plans for the weekend. The best thing about my friendship with Brianna is that no matter what, it's comfortable. Even when we weren't talking because of what I said, I had known she still loves me and cares about me. The fact that she got on the first flight to Tennessee the night I called her was proof of that. So I don't mind the silences. Once we finish eating, she puts away leftovers while I wash the dishes, then we settle in on the couch for a marathon of Scrubs, the bottle of wine slowly draining over the next few hours of JD’s inner monologues, Cox’s dry wit, and the Janitor’s antics against JD.

I jerk to consciousness, flailing wildly, when something lands abruptly on the end of my mattress. Forcing myself to sit upright, I scrub a hand over my eyes; my jaw cracks when I yawn, and a laugh sounds in my ear. I yank my head around to stare wide-eyed at Harry.

“Oh. My. God. You're back!”

He chuckles as I launch myself at him, his arms immediately coming up to wrap around me. “Yeah, we got back last night.”

“I've fucking missed you, you curly-headed dweeb.”

“I… am going to ignore that insult and tell you I missed you, too.”

I finally pull away, shoving a hand through my hair, and smile at him. “I have to work today, but we’ve got a few minutes. So tell me. How was tour?”

He tells me about the trip as I clamber out of my bed; I change in the closet, leaving the door open enough that we can talk while I pull on a pair of baby-blue scrubs. Once I'm dressed and my teeth are brushed, he follows me like a lost puppy down the stairs to the foyer. I lean against him as I slip my shoes onto my feet, double-check the laces, and grab my badge and keys off the hook by the door. I hug him tightly, warmth blossoming in my chest when it hits me again that he's _back_, and step back after a long moment.

“Okay, I gotta leave now, or I'm going to be late. You guys gonna be here tonight?”

He nods slowly, eyes narrowed as he thinks. “Yeah, should be. Well, Zayn might not be.”

“Okey dokey.” I dart forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Glad you're back, Haz.”

I thank the driver and slide out of the backseat. He waves at me before driving carefully away from the curb. I clip my badge to my top, turn toward the door. I’m not surprised to see Amari sitting on the front stoop, just like she has since the first day I was assigned to Dorothy and James. I am, however, confused that she isn’t smiling the usual welcoming smile. Shrugging it off as maybe a bad morning, I make my way up the walk.

“Hey, Amari, how’s it going?” I pulled the keys from my pocket then took a closer look at her face when she doesn't answer. “Everything okay?”

“Ya might want to sit, love.”

“Uh, okay? What's going on?”

My puzzlement grows when she inhales unsteadily. Her expression doesn't change, but I can see the dull gleam in her eyes; the light that's usually there is gone, washed away, leaving the blue faded and empty. Eventually, she turns to face me. She somehow keeps it together as she tells me that Dorothy’s died. She assures me that there was nothing the doctors could do, Dorothy was just too tired to keep fighting the infection. The way Amari’s voice trembles is the only indication of how much she's hurting. I stare blankly at my shoes, a wave of disbelief crashing over me; I just saw Dorothy two days ago when I took James to visit her in hospital. She'd been in high spirits - pained from both arthritis and her newly-broken hip, but smiling and laughing with us until visiting hours were over.

Amari squeezes my hand comfortingly. “I'm sorry, love. You going to be okay?”

“She was fine,” I whisper, my brow furrowing.

“I know. We all hoped she'd come home again.” She heaves out a weighted breath and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulls me into her side. “I'm sorry. But, well… the agency has me assigned to a new client already, so I guess this is goodbye.”

I nod though I'm numb on the inside. She presses a soft kiss to my hair then pushes herself to her feet. I watch her make her way to her car, pull away from the curb, disappear around the corner. My breath catches in my throat, but I drag in a steadying breath and stand. I may be reeling from the loss, and that's fine - I still have a job to do. I unlock the door and step inside. James is where he's always been every morning when I've arrived - already in his armchair, his shows playing at a low volume, rubber strip in hand.

“Where's my love?”

I jump, startled by how close James’s voice is. My hands tremble as tea spills across the table, and my eyes sting with tears. When I look up at him, his expression is hopeful yet confused. I hate myself more than ever in this moment, even though we've had this conversation four times already.

“Uh, well…” I clear my throat as his brows draw together, and I hurriedly put on an accent as I reply, “James, I'm - I'm so sorry. She, um, she passed away last night.”

His face crumbles, and he stares at me, eyes shining brightly with the arrival of tears. He shuffles away, back to the living room, and I close my eyes at the sound of his sobs. Grabbing a dish towel, I wipe up the mess of tea and manage to keep my hands steady enough to fill the teacup with the drink. James doesn't look at me as I set the cup on the side table next to his chair. I avoid turning my head, terrified and uncomfortable with the thought of seeing the almost eighty-year-old man crying over the loss of his wife.

It isn't but two hours later, as I'm finishing up serving his dinner, that he asks again. It hasn't gotten easier to have this talk with him; in fact, it's gotten harder. My emotions are threatening to get the best of me, to overwhelm me, and I can't keep my voice steady as I tell him once more about Dorothy. He reacts much the same as he has the last five times - disappearing into the living room and sobbing in solitude.

Caleb gives me a small smile as he enters the house, but I don't bother with pretences. I just pass over the log of the day, warn him in a trembling voice about how the past eight hours have gone, and duck out as quickly as I can. The late-evening air is cold against my skin, and I shiver, though I'm not sure if it's from the temperature or how close I am to falling apart. The cab finally arrives, coming to a smooth stop in front of me, and I slide into the backseat, giving my address, and settle into the seat with my forehead against the window.

The voices coming from the living room cut off as the door slams shut behind me, the sound echoing through the foyer. I storm up the stairs, ignore Brianna calling my name. A storm blows violently through me. I yank my badge from the front of my scrubs, flinging it across the room where it clatters against the wall. I manage to toe off my sneakers without falling on my face, but I don't take pleasure in that victory. Footsteps sound on the staircase, and I know it's Bri. The thought of seeing anyone right now sends bile creeping up my throat. I shove my bedroom door closed, growling in frustration when it bounces back off the frame. The tears come then, and once the door finally closes properly, I sit on the edge of my bed, cover my face with my hands.

Everything I've been pushing aside and avoiding all day comes out in a rush, and I can't catch my breath as sobs rip from me. The pain is almost tangible, clawing its way out of my soul and forcing me to acknowledge its existence. A voice in my head whispers all the doubts that I've done my best to ignore - _Can I even do this job? Can I keep putting myself through this whenever a client dies?_ I reach for my pillow blindly, push it against my face, and scream into the fluff and fabric. Something in me shatters, louder than the roaring of the thoughts and emotions that swirl inside of me, threaten to explode into a starburst of chaos.

Eventually, I'm able to drag in a breath, no matter how unsteady. I hiccup as I strip the cover off my pillow, toss it into the hamper in the corner of my room. My body is leaden, heavy, as I slowly change out of my scrubs into a pair of pyjamas. The coolness of my sheets sends a shiver up my spine, but I curl into a tight ball and focus on controlling my breathing. Someone knocks lightly on the door. I snuggle and stay quiet. Talking is impossible right now.

“Hey.”

Liam places the mug on the nightstand, sitting beside by my knees on the mattress. I drag my gaze to his face, hating the sympathetic smile on his lips. His hands are gentle as he tucks the blankets around me then brushes my hair from my face. Neither of us speak as he waits for me to be ready.

“A client died last night,” I croak out. “Her husband doesn't remember things so well, and I had to keep telling him all day.”

“Oh, love.”

Liam does not hesitate, just reaches for me and holds me tightly. The maelstrom inside doesn't seem so frightening, so overwhelmingly suffocating, this time, so I sink into him and let myself feel the entirety of the loss. His arms are secure around me, the warmth and strength comforting and promising safety in the storm; they give me permission to be selfish and allow him to be the pillar I cling to as wave after wave buffets me around and threatens to drown me in their intensity. I don't question it, I don't bother fighting it - I just take what he's offering, and I use it to bring me back away from the edge.


	21. Memories Consume, Like Opening the Wound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _breaking the habit_ linkin park

The sky is bright, a sunny shade of blue, and I stare blankly out the window at the puffs of clouds that drift by. Voices echo slightly from downstairs; I'm just grateful that it's Sunday. At least today, I'm not expected to keep up a fake smile and pretences that I'm okay. Because I'm not. I really, really am not. I spent five months taking care of Dorothy and James, so dealing with the loss is a lot harder than I anticipated. I was awake for most of the night after Liam left my room, which he only did because I pretended to fall asleep, and my mind had raced with doubts of whether I can keep doing this job and questions of how this happened, she was _fine_.

I roll over in my bed. The cheeriness of the view outside hurts too much to look at right now. The teacup still sits on my nightstand, and a reluctant smile tugs at my lips. It was… nice, to know that Liam cared enough to check on me. I understand why Brianna left me alone - she's been around enough that she's sure of me coming to her when I need her. My phone buzzes, disturbing the silence. I let out my breath in a sharp exhale.

**From: Briannnaaa** _Hey babe, breakfast is ready if you want it. If you're not down in twenty minutes, I'll put it in the oven to keep warm until you're ready. I love you, okay? I'm here if you need me._  
**From: Briannnaaa** _Also, you should text your fam. You should let them help you, too. _

She's right, because of course she is. I sigh heavily and lock my phone screen. I'll text Anna later. The promise of food isn't incredibly enticing, but I am well aware that if I stay in bed all day, I won't be able to pull myself out of this. So I push myself off the mattress, pad across the room to the closet, and grab a sweater, tugging it on.

I can hear my friends before I even get halfway down the stairs. Their laughter sends a pang through my chest; how can I be expected to join in when I’m feeling so twisted up right now? A small part of me wants to turn around, go upstairs, and crawl back into bed, but I know I can’t. Squaring my shoulders, I push on, turning the corner to the kitchen on silent feet. Harry and Zayn are arm-wrestling, while Niall cheers them on; Liam is merely watching in amusement. Bri sits on the countertop, Louis between her legs. He turns his head up toward her, and she smiles down at him before leaning forward to kiss him gently. I swallow past the lump in my throat and make my way into the room. No one notices me until I put my hand on top of Zayn and Harry’s, pushing their clasped hands to the side. Harry wins the match only because Zayn is startled by my abrupt appearance.

“Koty!”

I bite my lip against the small smile as Harry jumps to his feet to hug me tightly. “Morning, Haz.”

“You okay?” he murmurs into my ear, voice low and comforting, and all I can do is nod. “I’m trusting that you’re not lying, but... I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks.”

I wave off the plate that Bri holds out to me, and she frowns but acquiesces, placing it on the counter beside her. Niall pulls out the chair next to him, so I sit down and lean into his side. The kitchen is quiet for a long moment; I know that it’s because they’re all wondering what they can say that won’t upset me further. The silence is deafening, uncomfortable, so I tilt my head up to catch Niall’s eye.

“Think you could take me?”

His brows draw together, but he laughs when I wiggle my fingers at him. I trade seats with Liam, and Niall grins mischievously at me as we get our elbows onto the table. It’s surprisingly difficult, really, and I marvel to myself at how much strength the Irish kid has, but it’s for naught - the back of his hand hits the tabletop after a few minutes of struggle. He gapes at me, even as our friends erupt into loud cheers at my victory. I shrug, smiling somewhat, and eventually, he narrows his eyes.

“I’ll get you yet.”

“I’ll be waiting, little man.”

This seems to break the awkward tension in the room, and everyone talks over each other. I sit back in my chair, listen to them chatting amongst each other. My mind drifts the longer I sit there; I’m pulled back by a warm hand on my arm. I glance over to my left, and Liam’s lips quirk upwards. I pat his hand gently, giving him a small nod. Bri stealthily slides the plate of breakfast in front of me while I’m distracted by arguing with Harry about whether macaroni and cheese is an actual staple food or not (it _is_, damn it), and I glare at her without heat. Her hands come to her hips, and the look she sends me causes my obstinance to wither away.

**————————**

“Hey, not this week, but next? Get the weekend off, ‘kay?”

I glance up from my book and crinkle my nose. “I can try. Why?”

“Camping, duh.” Brianna takes a running leap, bouncing onto the end of my bed - then immediately off onto the floor. I raise a brow once she’s stood again. “Ignore that, please. Anyway, it’s been a while since we went camping as a group, and it’s supposed to be the last warm weekend of the year.”

“Okay.”

“What? No argument?”

I shrug, turning the page of my book, and continue to read. “I mean, we had fun last time. At least until the end. So why not. Besides, I could, uh, I could use some time away.”

“Still hard?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t really know her, but Dorothy was amazing. Y’know? The type of woman who’d give you shit just for giggles but would also turn around and make you laugh if you looked sad. And James still isn’t... He still doesn’t remember she’s gone.”

Her hand is gentle as she brushes my hair from my face. “It’ll get easier, eventually.”

“Hope so.”

She leaves then, calling Louis’s name down the hall as she closes the door, and I go back to my book. Shortly, I find I can’t concentrate. It’s been a month since Dorothy’s passing, and I’ve mostly worked through it, but the pain still hits at the most unexpected and inopportune times. James hasn’t made anything easier; having to tell him multiples times a visit has made it almost impossible for that wound to start healing completely. Thankfully, having the guys and Bri around keeps me from falling too far down into that spiral.

**From: Amari** _Hey, can you work my shift tomorrow? It’s only a couple hours in the morning. I know it’s your day off and I wouldn’t ask if I had any other option._

**To: Amari** _Details?_

**From: Amari** _Robert, 75. Just needs someone to cook and make sure he doesn’t fall. He’s honestly more lonely than anything. 8-11 _  
**From: Amari** _This mean you can do it?_

**To: Amari** _Sure. You owe me, though._

**From: Amari** _You’re an angel!!!!! Whatever you want, name it and it’s yours xxxxxxxx_

I laugh quietly, setting my alarm for six-thirty, and I set the book aside and make sure my phone is plugged in. The device vibrates with Amari’s text with the address, but I ignore it; if I read it now, I’ll forget about it in the morning. Once I’ve changed into pyjamas, I turn off the light, tiptoe carefully through the dark, and crawl into my bed. It’s earlier than I normally go to bed, but with as exhausted as I am, I doubt it will take me long to fall asleep.

**[ooxoo]**

I sigh, tossing a couple of pillows into the tent before moving onto the next one. I’d been forced awake at an absolutely unholy hour by Brianna pounding on the door, shouting at the top of her lungs that it was time to wake up; she’d done the same thing to the other two guest rooms, and I had shuffled out of my bedroom to see our friends looking just as disgruntled as I felt. Poor Niall had swayed unsteadily on his feet, scrubbed at his eyes while he yawned. At least I had managed more than four hours of sleep - he’d still been awake in the living room when I went down to get a drink of water at two a.m. My best friend demanded we be packed and ready to go within the hour, and it hadn’t taken long for Niall to fall asleep in the backseat, his head against the window and mouth open as he snored lightly.

Thankfully, Brianna was right: The forecast for the weekend called for clear daytime skies and warm temperatures but warned of cooler nights. I finish up the task of preparing the tents for bedtime then make my way across the clearing to the SUV. I grab a bottle of water from the ice chest in the back of the vehicle, cracking the lid. A hand darts out, grabs the bottle from my hand, and I turn to glare at Louis as he drains the bottle in one go.

“That was mine, you jerk.”

“And now it’s gone, thanks!”

He puts the empty bottle into the bag we’ve designated as the recycling bin, patting my forehead before walking away. I look around until I see Brianna emerging from the woods with Olly, their arms full of sticks.

“Bri, your boyfriend is a fucking jerk!”

She blinks owlishly at me then shrugs unconcernedly. “Yeah, he gets like that sometimes.”

Eventually, we’ve got the fire going, food cooked and eaten, and someone’s grabbed a bottle of whisky from the car and started circulating it around the ring we have made. Our voices echo in the enormous quiet of the night. I swallow down a mouthful of the liquor then pass it to my right, the warmth of the fire incomparable to the warmth that blossoms as the whisky makes it way to my belly. I snort when Olly throws a pebble at Zayn’s face; I can’t help myself - his wounded, bemused expression is too much for me to not be amused.

How long we sit there, I have no idea. All I know is that, after a while, the world goes soft at the edges, and I’m pleasantly toasty all over, even though the sun has set and a chill has settled over the clearing. Bri looks at me over the flames; the brilliant orange glow illuminates her face, makes her hazel eyes seem even brighter. I grin widely and wiggle my fingers in her direction. Eventually, the bottle of whisky runs empty, and I pout when I’m the one chosen to leave the heat of the fire to grab another from the car.

This time, I don’t partake as often in the bottle, taking one drink for every three times it gets to me. My friends have no such compunction, though. Zayn starts singing first, and the rest of us slowly join him. I don’t even know the lyrics, so I stay quiet, but Bri jumps in with _Don’t Speak_ by No Doubt. I bite my lip to stifle the squeal of delight and wait until she reaches “And if it’s real, well, I don’t wanna know” to start singing along. It’s when the second bottle has less than an inch of whisky in it that the songs abruptly turn sexual in nature, everyone trying to beat each other with crudeness and innuendo. I force smiles and laughter with the rest of them, even as my stomach churns uncomfortably.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” I announce about thirty minutes later; I can’t ignore the discomfort I feel. “Night, guys.”

No one seems to notice when I disappear into the tent. I stare at my friends for a long moment once I’m inside, but none of them look back at me or say anything about my absence. I sigh heavily, zipping the flap shut, and crawl into the makeshift bed. Olly laughs almost maniacally at whatever one of the guys says, and I reach for my phone, shove my earbuds into my ears, and open up the Pandora app to drown out the sounds of everyone else having fun.

I don’t sleep, no matter how hard I try. The fire outside slowly dims, and the clock on my phone says it’s been almost two hours since I came to bed. Shadows move past my tent, the silhouettes flickering in the glow from the fire. I close my eyes when one shadow stops by the flap; in the split between one song and the next, I hear the zipper sliding in its track. Forcing myself to breathe evenly, I pretend that I’m asleep, but it’s almost ruined when I nearly jump out of my skin as gentle fingers pull my earbuds first from one ear then the other. The music pauses suddenly, and I hear my phone thump as it lands next to the duffel bag in the corner of the tent.

“I know you’re still awake,” whispers Liam once the world outside falls quiet.

I let out a weighted breath but roll over to face him nonetheless. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Have fun?”

I can see his eyes even in the dying light from the bonfire, my heart quickening when they don’t stray from my face. He doesn’t speak for a long moment, but then he draws in a steadying breath.

“Why’d you come to bed before the rest of us?”

“I just...” I shrug, not sure how to explain it without coming across as a prude. “I’m not comfortable like you all are with, like, jokes and stuff like that. I mean, songs are different - for the most part, but the stuff you guys were saying? I dunno, it’s just different. And I’m not really comfortable hearing it.”

“I’m sorry. Really, I am. I noticed you weren’t quite as... chatty as before, but I assumed you were okay since you didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want -”

I instantly shut up, and my body moves on its own, scooting closer to Liam. Another twig snaps just outside the tent; I hold my breath as the shadow comes closer. Liam’s arms wrap around me, hold me tightly to him. Then he lets out a quiet laugh.

“It’s just Zayn going for a piss.”

He doesn’t let go of me, though, and I bask in the warmth he gives off. My breathing goes unsteady as my heart starts racing in my chest; I wonder if he can feel it. There’s a tingling beneath my skin, racing along my nerve endings. Whether it’s from the whisky that I drank or the fact that he’s so close, I’m not sure, but I don’t question it, even when I pull back far enough to brush a feather-light kiss to his jaw. His breath hitches, but he makes no moves to put some distance between us. A small voice whispers a warning of destroying our friendship that’s grown over the last month, that what I’m about to do will irrevocably change everything. I ignore it, leaning up to press my lips to his. He exhales sharply through his nose and tilts his head a bit, his lips parting under mine. I don’t notice, not really, when I roll onto my back, the kiss growing hotter and harder as he rests over me. My skin erupts in goosebumps as he drags a hand over my side, and his fingers slip beneath the fabric of my T-shirt, skim along the curve of my hip; in a split second, the warmth and want that has consumed me disappears. Everything goes cold abruptly, and I yank back while memories assault my mind, the taste of the whisky on Liam’s tongue morphing into the taste of beer and echoing strains of hip-hop music.

“No, I-I can’t, no, stop,” I manage to rasp out even as I scramble backwards until there is at least two feet of space in between us.

Liam sits up slowly, keeping his hands loosely in his lap. “Are... are you all right?”

My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, and the words I want to say dry up in my throat. I can’t breathe, the air ripping from my lungs in short, jerky gasps. Everything that I’ve tried so hard to quell, to bury so far down that it can’t touch me, fights to be free; the blurry fragments of recollections from that night refuse to be pushed back, and I shove my hands into my hair, curl into myself. Liam’s gaze is a heavy weight on me. My skin prickles the longer he watches me. Slowly, it becomes easier to drag in breaths that aren’t tinged with pain and hops. I sniff back tears before they can form, drop my hands to my lap, and pick at my nails as I avoid eye contact. Heat spreads across my face, and I’m completely sober now.

“I’m... I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no, love, it’s okay.” Liam hesitates then reaches out a hand toward me; it falls to the floor when I shake my head. “No need to apologise. I promise. I’m the one who should be sorry, I was pushing for too much too fast.”

No more words are spoken between us for a long time; the only things I hear are the nocturnal insects buzzing and owls hooting occasionally in the trees. I close my eyes at the rustle of the blankest as he lies down. My heart is still racing beneath my ribs, but I draw in a steadying breath and crawl back to where my pillow is. Liam stays completely still as I slip between the blankets. Darkness has encroached on us, the fire outside having died out. I breathe out slowly before curling up against him. There isn’t a way of stopping the tears from sliding out of the corners of my eyes when he tentatively drapes an arm over my waist; his movements are slow enough that I know he’s giving me the chance to reject it, to refuse.

“It’s bloody freezing,” he whispers.

I let out a watery laugh, pull his arm more securely around me, and snuggle closer. The shared body heat and the thick blanket keep the cold at bay, and I exhale deeply before my eyes close.


	22. Yes, I'm Gonna Take My Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _maybe it's a good thing_ kt tunstall

The cacophony of bird calls drags me reluctantly to consciousness, and I sigh in frustration, burying my face into the sleep-warm pillow beneath my head. Shifting to get back to comfortable, I instantly freeze as a low, almost inaudible moan sounds from behind me. The noise cuts off a second later, and I get no warning before Liam is peeling his body away from mine. It’s cold now, without him against my back, and I raise my head to watch him rush from the tent; his cheeks are flushed a brilliant red. His footsteps sound so loud in the stillness of the morning, even the birds falling silent momentarily. I push myself to sit upright and shiver in the cool morning air.

Clutching the blanket around my shoulders, I push the flap aside and step out into the clearing. The sky is cloudless, pinks and oranges swirling along the horizon as the navy recedes. The molten golden-bronze of the sun peeks through the trees, and I smile into the gorgeous sunrise. Crisp air tickles my throat when I breathe in deeply. I make my way to the log I sat on last night, stare at the circle of burnt-out ashes. Sunlight reflects off the empty whisky bottle, causing the last mouthful of liquor to gleam a honey-brown. I nudge the bottle with my toe and wince when it clinks against a rock.

Liam joins me a few minutes later; the tips of his ears are red, though I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or the embarrassment. The way he avoids eye contact with me makes me thinks it’s more the latter than anything. Then again, I’m doing the same thing. I listen as he stirs up the ashes; he finally sits after putting a log on, and the small flames crackle in their endeavour to devour the freshly-lain log, to grow and eat away and purely exist. Wings flutter above our heads; I jerk my head up as a bird leaves one perch for another. Once it’s silent again, I clear my throat as quietly as I can.

“I’m... sorry. About last night.”

Liam’s dark eyes meet mine for the first time since we woke up, and it takes all of my willpower to drag my gaze away from his steady stare. “Nothing to be sorry for, Koty, I already told you.”

“But-”

“Look, you don’t have to apologise. Really, you don’t. I understand. But if you really feel you have to, then let’s just wait until we get back to civilisation so we can talk in private.” His smile radiates comfort, warmth, even as his cheeks redden. “Okay?”

I nod without speaking, and his hand hovers in the air for a moment before it lands on my shoulder, gentle and undemanding and so strong. Unthinkingly, I lean into the contact, and he huffs out a laugh, tugs at the edge of the blanket, and we stand so he can wrap it around the both of us. It is so much warmer now; I shiver for a completely different reason - no longer chilled from the morning, but the fire that’s blooming to life in the fire pit is nothing in comparison to the heat that stakes out a homestead in my belly. I let my head drop onto his shoulder, and his arm comes up to wrap around my back.

How long we sit there, unspeaking, enjoying each other’s company, I can’t say. I roll my eyes at the sound of a camera shutter, turning my head to look at Bri in the doorway of her tent. She grins back unabashedly then steps out to join us. Somehow, she’s perfectly okay wearing sweats and a long-sleeve shirt; I can barely look at her without feeling sympathy chills. Brianna sets out to get breakfast started. The smell of bacon and eggs cooking over the fire seems to be the wake-up call everyone has been waiting for - Zayn stumbles from his tent first, followed by Harry, then Niall and Olly. Louis is the last one to clamber through the flap of the tent. He sits on a stump across the fire from Liam and me, and his lips twist up into a mischievous smirk. He waggles his brows.

“And how’d you lot sleep?”

“That’s inappropriate,” responds Liam lightly, and I can almost see his eye-roll in my mind.

The morning is spent with breakfast, snacks, singing, and silence. It’s peaceful, relaxing. For once, I don’t feel like the quiet stretches are awkward and desperate to be filled. I’m able to sit back, enjoy the time without worrying about conversation. I know it’s only a matter of time, though, that someone is going to get bored. I’m proven right by the way Louis gases around, his knee bouncing, before a wide smile splits his face. The rest of us go along willingly enough as he orders us to change clothes. Brianna follows me into the tent I shared with Liam, and I’ve just pulled my T-shirt off when her hand darts out. I yelp at the stinging against my rib cage.

“You flicked me!”

“Yep.”

“You _flicked_ me! Why’d you flick me?”

“It sounded like fun.” She catches the wadded-up sock I throw at her face. “Hey. No throwing things, bitch.”

“Then don’t freaking flick me!”

My best friend steps closer, her voice quieting as she asks if anything happened last night. I bite my lip and shake my head; I know I can trust her, but there’s nothing really to tell. Nothing happened. Sure, Liam and I kissed, and then I freaked out, but no. Nothing happened. Her eye narrow, and she stares at me. I pretend not to notice as I yank my leggings on before slipping my arms into the sleeves of my hoodie. Brianna finishes dressing quickly, flicks the end of my nose, and rushes out of the tent. The clearing echoes with the laughter as she trips over the edge of the zip-track. I manage to stifle my giggles long enough to make sure she’s okay.

Olly and Bri lead the group, and I slowly fall further behind. With the way Harry, Niall, and Louis are running around like manic chickens - swerving in and out of the trees along the trail, running back and forth between the front of our cluster to the back - I don’t trust that they won’t hurt themselves, or me if I get too close. Thankfully, they eventually take their energy with them and forge ahead. My breath catches in my throat when a hand brushes softly against mine; I keep my gaze ahead, though, even as I let Liam lace our fingers together anyway. A pleasant buzzing burns hotly in my chest at the contact. I raise my free hand to push a lock of hair out of my face, subtly shift closer. Brianna glances back at the remainder of our group; I see when she notices, the stretch of her lips as she grins widely, but she doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, she turns to face the front. A loud creaking noise carries on the gentle breeze, and I look around for the source. Somehow, I’m not surprised to see Niall and Harry halfway up a tree while Louis tries to find a foothold on the trunk of a nearby tree. Bri comes to a stop, plants her fists on her hips.

“If you two idiots fall and break your necks, guess who’s gonna be blamed! Not me, I’ll tell you that right now. So get down and act like mature adults.”

“Hey, Bri?” I call out, and she twists to look at me. “Go climb the fucking trees.”

Her face scrunches up, but then she sticks her tongue out at me. I press my face against Liam’s arm and laugh as she takes off toward the guys doing their best impressions of Tarzan. I absolutely lose it when Bri’s voice cracks as she tries to do the cry from _George of the Jungle_, and she flips me off before trying again.

Tonight goes much the same as last: We pass a bottle of alcohol around, sing whenever the mood strikes us even if someone is talking already, shove at each other whenever a snarky comment is made. I fall backwards off the log when Louis’s impersonation of Brianna dancing makes me giggle particularly hard. Liam is nice enough to hide his humour enough to help me back up, and I’m struck with the sudden urge to kiss him senseless, right here, right now. I blame it on the liquor and quell the desire - not really a good time. I do, however, squeeze his hand before releasing it; the last thing I want to deal with at the moment is the questions that I know everyone will have if they see us holding hands.

Liam lets go of the zipper once the flap is closed, sealed against the outdoors, and he’s barely turned toward me before my arms are snaking around his neck. His breath comes out in a soft _oomph_, but he kisses me back with just as much fervour. I notice, somewhere in the back of my mind, that his hands stay firmly in place on my ribcage. I pull away when my lungs start burning from lack of sufficient air, rubbing the tip of my nose against his, and kiss away the lazy, dopey smile he’s giving me. I almost worry that this, whatever it is, is fuelled only by being drunk, but something reminds me that I’ve found Liam attractive since the beginning, the only thing the whisky has done is helped me let go of the inhibitions that were holding me back. I shrug it off and lose myself in the taste of liquor, the silken slide of his tongue against mine, the heat that grows between us.

“Oh, what the fuck,” I growl with a vicious backwards yank of my head. “Are they _kidding_ me right now?”

Liam laughs softly, his breath hot and wet against my throat, and I shiver at the light press of lips to the skin. “I don’t think they are, love.”

I pull away from Liam, flop down onto the blankets with a quiet groan. Liam’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything; he crawls toward me, his body coming to cover mine, and my head tilts back as he peppers my jawline and neck. Slowly, my attention drifts from the noises coming from Bri and Louis’s tent and back to the way my body is reacting to the soft caresses and tender kisses. I arch into his touch, my hands cupping his face and bringing his mouth to mine, and his moan is so quiet that I almost don’t hear it. It isn’t long before I forget about the fact we stopped at all - or why - and my skin feels tight, hot, but in the best of ways. My stomach swoops, jerks, and my hands find their way to spread across Liam’s broad shoulders, pull him even closer.

I’m abruptly pulled out of the floating sensation, the unadulterated weightlessness that I’ve been enjoying, when his fingers slip into the waistband of my sleep-pants. I don’t _want_ to stop kissing him - god, it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced - but I do anyway, grabbing his wrist; he drops his forehead to mine and sighs exasperatedly when I pull his hand away. Something in my chest tightens painfully, and I fear the worst. But then his mouth curves into a sheepish smile, and he kisses the end of my nose.

“Sorry, sorry. I, uh... my mind stopped working for a moment. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

I bite my lip, deliberate, but then I slowly nod. He ducks his head to capture my lips with his, and I force away the thoughts that want to intrude, focus on the way the kiss has everything in me all topsy-turvy and overwhelmed in such pleasant ways. He doesn’t break the kiss even as he shifts until he’s on his side. And thankfully, he stays true to his word; his lips taste and feel like heaven, but the way his hand doesn’t leave my side makes it all that much better. It makes it easier to ignore the hard press against my hip. My head spins wildly with the need to breathe, but I can’t find it in me to care.

Unfortunately, Liam does. He pulls away slowly, coming back for a few more quick kisses; I giggle after the third one. He grabs the blanket while I pull our pillows closer together. He waits until I’m comfortable to spread out the comforter then lies down next to me, holds his arms out. I cuddle into his side and rest my head on his chest. His heartbeat is a steady rhythm beneath my ear, and I find myself quickly falling into a doze. My last coherent thought that I’ll remember having is _Maybe more won’t be so bad..._


	23. How I'm Wishing That You Were Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _without you_ avicii

Unfortunately, to my utter disgust, the time comes to pack up and go back home. I’ve never been one for sleeping on the ground or the whole “roughing it” thing - I prefer civilised living - but this past weekend has been fantastic. Laughing until I cried, drinking, spending hours kissing Liam... it was all mind-blowing and amazing and not something I want to put an end to. I help shove the blankets and pillows into the back of the SUVs while the others take down the tents. Once everything is stowed away and the clearing is cleaned up, we all clamber into the vehicles; I immediately crawl over the second row to curl up into a seat in the back, and Liam joins me within seconds. My best friend and her boyfriend take the second row. I buckle up and shift in the seat to get comfortable. Liam takes pity on me, stretching his arm out across the headrest, and I lean into his side, yawning widely. It’s not even two in the afternoon, but I’m exhausted. So I close my eyes and doze lightly as Paul puts the car in drive, heads toward town.

The car comes to a stop outside of the house, and Brianna and Louis clamber out of the car. She gives me an inquisitive look when I don’t move; I force a smile and tell her I’m going to go to Liam’s house for a bit. It isn’t too out of the ordinary - since the night he brought tea to me after Dorothy’s death, we’ve gotten closer, hung out whenever we had the time. Most of the time, it was when he’d planned on coming to the house anyway, but a few times, I’d gone to his. But I know going with him is the only way we’ll have the privacy this conversation requires. She shrugs, makes me promise to text her if I’m not coming home, then grabs the bags from the back. Liam waits until they’ve disappeared into the house and Paul’s pulled away to duck down and kiss me. I smile against his lips, thankful for the tinted windows - and Paul’s discretion.

I roll my eyes when Liam tosses his bag through the doorway to his room; it lands with a solid thump somewhere in the dark. He smiles in response before heading into the kitchen. I perch on the edge of the couch, gaze around the room. A light clinking noise comes from the other room, and I turn to see Liam walking back into the living room with two uncapped bottles of beer. He hands me one, and I thank him quietly, take a sip. He sits at the other end of the sofa. My fingers pick idly at the label as the silence drags on.

“I really am sorry. I know you said it’s fine, but... I feel like I lead you on. That wasn’t my intention. I just, I really wanted to kiss you. I have for a while. Then, well...”

“Then you realised you weren’t ready for more.” He sets his bottle on the table and turns to face me. “Love, I get that. Okay? I understand completely. And I meant it when I said that it was okay, that I was all right with stopping. There’s literally nothing about it that you should feel sorry about. Can I be honest about something?” he adds after a pause, almost like a hesitant afterthought.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“Having you say no isn’t what bothers me. Hell, it isn’t even a bother, really, more of a worry about how you reacted the way you did.”

I swallow thickly, my stomach twisting and turning around itself; I finally manage to whisper, “I-I really can’t talk about that. Please don’t make me.”

“Why - why the Hell would I ever try to force you to talk about something you’re not comfortable with?”

I peek at him from the corner of my eye. He looks almost wounded at the suggestion that I think so little of him. I shrug awkwardly, nervously, and peel back more of the label. He waits patiently for an answer as I ball up the sticky paper and place it on the table. Eventually, it becomes apparent that I need to respond. He may be amazing right now, but everyone’s patience has limits - I don’t want to reach the end of his.

“I dunno. Most guys would demand an answer after a girl gets them all hot and bothered then suddenly slams the brakes.”

“No. Any respectable lad would _not_. They would accept the no. They would respect your boundaries, and they certainly wouldn’t push.” His hand wraps around mine, our fingers lacing together, and I smile slightly at the warmth that spreads through my body from the contact. “If you want to tell me, then it’ll be _your_ choice. It won’t be because I pressured you.”

After a long moment during which I stare at our clasped hands, I drag in a shaky breath, admit, “I... had a very, uh, unpleasant experience with a guy when sex was involved. Or so he thought. But it kinda made it to where I haven’t really had a reason to pursue, y’know, having sex... for, um, for the first time.”

When he doesn’t speak immediately, I glance up at him through my lashes; he’s staring at me, dark eyes narrowed slightly. He bites absentmindedly at his lower lip, and my fingers itch to press out the frown line between his furrowed brows. The heaviness of his gaze gets to me. I squirm uncomfortably and try to think of something to break up the silence that hangs in the air, damning in its existence. Finally, he blows out a heavy breath and nods, releasing my hand and opening his arms to me. I hesitate but scoot closer, curl against his chest. His hand comes up to stroke over my hair once my head is tucked under his chin, and I listen to his rhythmic heartbeat and steady breathing.

“You deserve better than what that jerk did, you really do.”

I close my eyes against the tears that his soft words draw from me. We lie together like this, unspeaking and comfortable, before my stomach growls. His laughter is pleasant in my ears, and I smile and pull away. We come to the decision to order takeaway and spend the rest of the evening watching mindless television. The next few hours are almost as amazing as the ones spent while camping. I stay cuddled into his side even while eating my fourth slice of pizza, not caring about his opinion of how much I’m eating. Liam doesn’t seem to mind, though, just presses his lips to my cheeks, chuckling when I scrunch up my face at the grease left behind.

“Do you, er, wanna stay?” questions Liam when the clock reads after nine.

It doesn’t take long at all for me to make up my mind. I lean up to kiss him gently and murmur a _yes_ against his lips. While he uses the bathroom, I send a quick text to Brianna letting her know of the plans; her response comes as I’m brushing my teeth by Liam’s side. _Don’t do what I wouldn’t do_. Of course, Liam sees the message and takes my phone away. I watch as he types for a moment, and I’m almost afraid to see what he’s sent by the time he passes it back.

**To: Briannnaaaa** _Then I can do basically anything short of robbing a bank? _  
  
**From: Briannnaaaa** _Excuse you! I have morals! And my standards for a good life are much higher than “don’t rob a bank”. Bitch._  
**From: Briannnaaaa** _Love you! See you tomorrow after work? _  
  
**To: Briannnaaaa** _Maybe call the right person a bitch and then you will._

I groan in delight when I lie down on the bed. The mattress is the perfect mix of firm and soft; it somehow supports while also allowing me to sink into it, and I feel like I’m in heaven - this is probably better than coffee. No, actually, it is better than coffee, especially after sleeping in a cold tent for two days. I burrow into the blankets, sighing blissfully when the tension melts from my body even more. Liam huffs out a laugh and flips the light switch, dousing the room in darkness, and I wait until he’s settled in bed before I push closer to him. He curls his arm around me, and it doesn’t take long before the warmth and the comforting hold and the familiar scent of Liam lulls me into sleep.

I sip at my coffee and push aside the corner of the curtain. The fans still haven’t moved from in front of the building; I only have a little under an hour to get home, change, and head to work, and the fact that the group is right outside the door is making my task increasingly more impossible. Swallowing the last mouthful of my drink, I carry my cup into the kitchen, rinse it out in the sink. The shower stops in the bathroom, and I glance over my shoulder when the door opens. My mouth instantly goes dry at the sight of Liam’s broad back, dotted with droplets of water, disappearing into the towel wrapped around his waist. I look away when he turns around to shut his bedroom door, but I have a feeling he’s seen me checking him out.

Liam emerges from his room fully dressed, and I mentally pout at the lack of view but the smile on his face is a fantastic alternative. He hands me my oversized hoodie, kissing the tip of my nose once I’ve got it on. My fingers rest against the sharp line of his jaw as I lean up to press my lips to his. It’s a gentle thing, really, but it sends my head spinning anyway. When he pulls away, he gives me a gentle smile, opens his mouth as if to say something. A knock on the door interrupts him, though, and his brows draw together. I poke lightly at the frown on his lips; the giggle tears from me without my permission, and I yank my hand back before he can actually nip at my fingertips. He ducks down to kiss me once more then turns to answer the door.

“Mornin’. Are you ready, Koty?”

I shrug, grab my phone from the kitchen counter where it’s been charging all night. “I mean, I _guess_.”

Paul laughs quietly and averts his gaze while Liam steps closer to me. He tugs a beanie over my hair, and this time, the kiss we share isn’t nearly as soft as the other - I can barely breathe by the time we part, and I’m overcome by the urge to dive right back in and never surface from the waves of want. But I know I have no other choice, so I make my way to the door and slip my shoes onto my feet. The screams from outside grow louder, able to be heard clearly even from three floors up. I turn to see Liam standing at the door to the balcony with the curtains wide open; he gives me a wide smile over his shoulder, and all I can do is wonder when he took his shirt off. Paul taps my shoulder, handing me a pair of comically large sunglasses, and I shove them onto my face and follow him into the hallway. No one bothers looking in my direction as I’m lead to the SUV halfway down the block.

A large paper bag sits in the backseat, and I frown, scooting it over so I can slide in. When Paul does nothing but start up the car, I examine the bag further and see my name written on the outside. I peel back the tape, look inside, and something in my chest burns warm. I check my phone and groan. I have less than thirty minutes to get to work; I make sure that Paul’s eyes are firmly on the road.

“No peeking, mister.”

“No worries, you’re not my type.”

“I’d be offended, but you’re not my type, either.”

“Let me guess - your type is a particular member of a popular boyband whose flat you just spent the night in.”

“You... might be right. Shut up.”

I’m still giggling softly as I trade my leggings for the lilac pants, and it takes some manoeuvring, but I manage to slide down into the footwell to pull my sweater and tank-top off and replace them with the scrub top that Paul brought me. Once done, I get back onto the seat and buckle up again. Paul passes my badge back to me, and I hook it onto my shirt as he comes to a stop outside of James’s house. I lean over the back of his seat, kiss his cheek, and immediately slip out of the car as he protests. I can see his smile even while he pulls away, waving cheerily at me. My grin fades when I turn back to the house in front of me.

The day passes slowly; it’s rough, still, but it doesn’t hurt as much to have to remind James that Dorothy is gone. The question doesn’t come nearly as often, which makes things slightly easier on me. I do my best to not let my mind wander as I cook and clean and keep James from spending the entire day in front of the television. I’ve just finished washing the dinner dishes up when Caleb comes in. I say a quick goodnight to James who ignores me as he normally does, and passing over the daily log, I step out onto the porch and call for a taxi. There’s a text from Liam waiting to be read, but I decide to put it off until I get home.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for a cab to arrive, and while there’s some normal traffic, I finally step out onto the sidewalk in front of the house I live in with Brianna and Louis. Light shines through the gauzy curtains of the office, and a shadow passes in front of the window. I smile to myself before setting off for the front door. JD’s voice is the first thing I hear when I step inside, and I toe off my shoes and put them on the shoe-rack. Louis doesn’t notice as I pass the door to the office, too engrossed with whatever he’s reading on the papers in his hands, and I make my way down the hall to the living room. Bri glances away from the television when I round the corner.

“Hey, bitch, and I’m saying bitch because you let Liam text me.”

“I had no control over that, thank you very much.” I grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl in her lap, stuffing it in my mouth. “How’s your day been?”

She shrugs and gestures vaguely at where Cox is going on a rant to Elliot. “This.”

“Ah. Lovely day. Okay, well, I’m gonna go shower. I feel gross.”

“Can’t believe you went to work after not showering since Thursday night.”

“Well, I would’ve showered Friday morning, but someone decided we had to be out of the house by, like, seven.”

“Go shower, stinky.”

I flip her off but head toward the stairs anyway. Me cleaning up has nothing to do with her and everything to do with the fact that I feel gross. It was easy to ignore while wrapped up in Liam’s arms, while he was kissing me breathless, while working, but now that I’m home, it’s not something I can keep my mind off of. Hurriedly grabbing a change of clothes, I step into the bathroom and turn the water on. I would love to take my time, but exhaustion is rapidly setting in and I’m honestly not sure how much longer I’ll have the energy to do a damn thing.

**From: Liam** _It’s cold without your cuddles_

The attachment is a snapshot of him stretched out on his couch, the image from his chest down. I grin widely, saving the photo to my phone, and send back a picture of my empty bed with the caption of _I seem to be having the same problem. :(_


	24. And We’ll Run to a Brand New Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _brand new sun_ jason lytle

I shiver in the cool air as I pad down the hall to the bathroom; my footsteps seem much louder than they actually are in the silence of the house. No one else is awake, which isn’t surprising considering it’s nearly four in the morning and we all went to bed only a few hours ago. I use the bathroom, wash my hands, then stare at my reflection in the mirror. There’s a light in my eyes that I haven’t seen before, and even when I’m not smiling, a grin hides just below the surface. I roll my eyes at myself, flipping off the light as I leave the bathroom. My heart starts racing the further I get down the hall, and an undercurrent of nervousness - and fear - buzzes along under my skin. I slip into the bedroom and ease the door shut behind me, tiptoe across the room to the bed. Liam stirs as I slide between the sheets. His hand reaches out for me, and I melt into the touch.

“You okay?” he murmurs sleepily.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Go back to sleep, sweets.”

“Mmm. Only if you do.”

“Workin’ on it.” I lean forward, press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Sweet dreams.”

He lets out a noncommittal noise and drapes his arm over my waist. With a slow exhale, I force myself to relax even while worrying about what would happen if Bri or Louis found us in bed together - it isn’t like either of them would be overly upset, I don’t think, but this thing between Liam and me is new, tentative, and - most unfortunately - undefined. I can’t put a name to it yet, so the idea of fielding questions about it is daunting at best. I turn my head to stare at Liam through the dim light coming through the window from the street lamps. He’s already asleep again. I lift a hand to brush his hair from his forehead, smile at how peaceful he appears in his rest. Eventually, I wiggle a little closer to him and close my eyes.

Thankfully, I make it back to my own bedroom before my alarm goes off at seven-thirty. The fact that I wake up early every morning to shower and get dressed for work means nobody bothers to question why I’m out of bed and ready before they even stumble out of their rooms. Cup of coffee in hand, I stand in the doorway of the guest room and watch Liam sleep on. He’d made a snuffling sound when I’d gotten out of bed, but he hadn’t woken up, so I’m counting it as a win. I jump slightly when a loud, annoying screech sounds from where our friends sleep; _shit_, I think before hurrying down the stairs. I forgot that Bri took an opening shift today. I rush to rinse out my mug and shove my feet into my shoes. I’m out the door before Brianna even reaches the stairs.

My phone rings, and I stop halfway up the walk to Bea’s front door. I see her through the living room window, knitting and mouthing along to whatever song she’s listening to. I’m twenty minutes early, so I figure it’s a good time to answer the call. That choice is confirmed as a good one when I see it’s the agency. My boss’s voice is sympathetic from the start, and it immediately sends off warning bells in my mind. It was expected, really, but it still hurts to hear that James is being placed in an assisted care facility, where medically-trained staff can attend to his needs while also being able to work with his dementia. I thank Thomas quietly and hang up, sending a text to the group chat telling the guys and Bri to have good days or I’d beat them up next time I see them, then I type out another message.

**To: Liam** _Today already sucks. I wanna be back there with you. _

I don’t get a response, but I didn’t really expect one, not this early in the morning. I lock my phone and continue up the walk, knocking lightly on the front door. Bea’s face lights up when I walk in, and I let out a quiet laugh and sit in the rocking chair to her left, picking up the scarf I’m attempting to knit. We work in silence for a long while, the quiet punctuated by growls of frustration when I drop a stitch or have too much fluctuation in the tension. Eventually, her hand comes to rest against my arm.

“Is everything all right, love?”

I sigh, setting the scarf down. “Yeah, things are okay. Just got some disappointing news this morning, but c’est la vie, right?”

“Hmm. Well, I hope you aren’t about to take that upset out on that poor yarn. It’s done nothing to deserve the punishment.”

She’s grinning, though, her dark eyes twinkling; I draw in a deep breath and let go of the negative emotions, forcing them to fade away to the background. After twenty more minutes, I put the knitting away and stand, stretch out my back. Bea lets me help her to her feet, and we head to the kitchen for our morning tea and treats. It isn’t until I have a mouthful of cookie that she sets her teacup in its saucer and pins me with a mischievous look.

“Now, tell me about this boy of yours.”

  
**[ooxoo]**

****

I rewatch the video for the third time, laughing again at Liam’s unimpressed look when the camera is shoved in his face. Over the last couple of days, the guys have taken to sending me short video clips of each other in the studio; Bri told me it was their way of competing - “Who can send the funniest shit to Brianna and Koty? Let’s find out!” She’s long since gotten accustomed to them and has learned to somehow convey no emotion whatsoever in her texts back, even when she’s laughing her ass off. It’s only made the competition even worse. I can only wonder how they have yet to figure out she’s messing with them.

I won’t admit it to anyone, even under duress, but the ones I watch more times than I can count are the ones that have Liam in them. It feels awkward to make that confession to myself, let alone anyone else; I know he probably wouldn’t mind if he found out, but it is still a secret I’m going to keep locked away. I pull up the message thread with him, typing out a text then deleting it before I can send it. I think of what I want to say, groaning when I can’t come up with a way of saying _I miss the Hell out of you_ without coming across as clingy.

“What’s going on with you two?”

I shriek, tossing my phone into the air; I hadn’t expected to hear Brianna’s voice, especially not right to my ear. “What the Hell, woman!”

“Sorry, thought you heard me come in. But seriously. What’s going on?”

“I...” I realise I can’t lie to her, so I shrug and avoid eye contact. “I have no idea. We haven’t talked about it.”

“Even though you two have slept together - no, not like that, don’t give me that look - for the past week?”

“You know about that?”

“Yeah, figured it out when I went to your room the other night to see if you wanted to watch tv because I couldn’t sleep, and you weren’t there. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to realise where you were. It was inevitable, I guess.”

“Inevitable?”

She rolls her eyes at me, but her hand is gentle as it brushes over my hair. “When we went camping, you two were pretty inseparable. And you held his hand. For you, that’s like declaring your intent to wed.”

“I don’t think that’s accurate,” I mutter, scowling, and she laughs softly.

“You should talk to him, babe. Don’t end up like Louis and I were for so long.”

“I’ll talk to him soon, I promise.”

“Good.” With a sigh, she shoves herself to her feet and stares down at me. “I gotta get to work. You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll just be here, trying to figure out what to do.”

“You could talk to your boyfriend!” she calls over her shoulder as she makes her way to the front door.

“Not my boyfriend,” I mumble as I hear the key scraping in the lock, and why does that thought fill me with disappointment?

**To: Liam** _Got time? I think we need to talk._  
  
**From: Liam** _I have a few minutes. Need me to ring?_

**To: Liam** _Nah. I think text is fine._  
**To: Liam** _So what exactly are we?_

**From: Liam** _What do you mean?_

**To: Liam** _Are we dating? Friends who like making out and sharing a bed?_

Five, ten, then fifteen minutes go by without a response. I know he’s read the message - he has Read Receipts turned on. My heart plummets through the floor, and anger explodes like a firework inside of me as I realise I’ve just messed everything up. I’m not even mad at him; I’m so unbelievably irate at myself for asking it instead of being happy with what we have. _Oh, Hell, this is exactly like Lou and Bri..._ I sigh, flopping sideways to lie on the couch, and stare blankly at the television.

The incessant noise sounds again, and I groan but open my eyes. Blinking to clear the sleep from my eyes, I push myself to sit up and stare at my phone as it finishes ringing. I scrub a hand over my face. My nap hadn’t been as restful as I would have hoped, and I still feel just as mixed-up and angry as I did before I fell asleep. I know I can’t put off checking my notifications- Bri has relaxed a bit when it comes to me responding to her texts, but she still worries if I don’t answer within a few hours.

**From: Briannnaaaa** _Hope your convo with Lima goes well. Work suckssssss so I need details please???????????_

I smile, send back _We shall see. I slept instead of talking to him. Oops!,_ and open my call log. I have six missed calls from him. I bite my lip and press on his name. He answers on the second ring.

“Hey, love. I’m so sorry, had to go in the booth to fix up some vocals.”

“No worries.” My heart lodges itself in my throat, and I have to cough quietly a couple of times before I can speak again. “So...”

His sigh crackles down the line; I close my eyes against the noise, trepidation climbing the longer he doesn’t speak. Finally, he does. “It... It’s up to you, really. I mean, personally, I’m leaning more towards wanting a relationship with you, but ultimately, it’s your choice, Koty.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really. And before you start wondering, I’m still a hundred percent willing to go as fast or slow as you need.”

“Well, I don’t exactly do what I’ve done, no matter how little, with just any random guy,” I say awkwardly, and he laughs softly.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that. So... I think this calls for you and me, the Friday night after we come home, dinner?”

“Sounds like a great plan.”

“Good.” Someone speaks in the background, and Liam’s voice grows faint as he replies. “Okay. I really don’t want to do this, but I have to go. I’ll call you later, all right?”

“Okay, have fun!”

His laughter is the last thing I hear before we hang up, and I smile to myself as I stare at my phone. Just seeing his name sends something fluttering in my chest, and I really, really like it.

**To: Briannnaaaa** _Yeah, we’re not you and Lou d:_

**From: Briannnaaaa** _You can’t hear it but I’m totally screaming for you. Mostly because it’s internal. Because I’d lose my job if I actually suddenly started screaming in the store. Calibrate tonight?? _  
**From: Briannnaaaa** _Fucking phone. Celibate _  
**From: Briannnaaaa** _FUCK_  
**From: Briannnaaaa** _C E L E B R A T E_

**To: Briannnaaaa** _Sounds like you’ve got sex on the brain so idk if celebrating with you is a good idea_

**From: Briannnaaaa** _Fuck you too_


	25. In the Mood for a Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _dancing queen_ abba

I toe off my shoes by the door, shoving them in the general direction of the shoe-rack, and make my way down the hall to the living room. Bri isn’t home yet, and I’m glad for that. It’s been a very long, tiring day. Though I had a free morning, I’d barely managed to eat a quick lunch before having to rush off to take Alice to her dialysis appointment, all because I lost track of time. The appointment itself had been much the same as the last seven I’ve gone to with her: tedious and full of sympathy as she handled the muscle cramps and dizziness like a champ. We talked through the whole process, and I found myself wishing I’d met her when she was younger. But now that she’s back at home with her night-time caretaker, and I’m sprawled on the sofa, all I want right now is some food, a drink, and sleep - not particularly in that specific order.

Eventually, I push myself to my feet and wander into the kitchen. There are some leftovers from the last few nights when none of us wanted to cook and decided to order enough takeaway for entire armies. I reheat some orange chicken and eat it standing at the counter since Brianna’s not here to yell at me for not sitting like a normal person. The house is too quiet without anyone else around, so I head upstairs to my room, plug my phone into the charger, and cross the room to the dresser to get a change of clothes. I pull my hair back into a messy bun and stretch out on my bed. There’s a new text waiting by the time I pick up my phone from the nightstand.

**From: Liam** _So close to the end of this tour. Excited to be home and see you again._

**To: Liam** _I can’t wait to see you, too. My bed is super lonely without you._

**From: Liam** _You home now?_

I hurriedly slip under my blankets, tugging them up to my chin, and take a quick picture of my face half-obscured by the comforter, my eyes closed and lips stretched in an enormous, pleased grin. I attach the photo to a message, sending it off, and sit back up. Liam’s face appears on the screen, and I bite my lip, my grin fighting to break free anyway, as I answer the call.

“Hey, there.”

“Hi.”

The warmth in his voice causes something in me to ache with longing; I can hear the smile on his face even through the line, and I settle more comfortably against my pillows. He tells me about the tour, and I react at the appropriate times, laughing especially hard at the mental image of a soda-drenched Harry as Liam talks about the prank Louis pulled. I almost feel bad for finding so much amusement out of poor Haz trying to open a drink only for it to spray up in his face because our friend decided to shake the bottle while Harry’s back was turned, but that twinge of guilt is washed away rather quickly. I’m yawning by the time Liam asks me about my days.

“It’s okay. I, uh, I have four new clients now, so I’m getting roughly forty hours a week, which is nice. Mostly, I go from home to work then back home. I went out with Bri the other night for some dinner, since neither of us felt like cooking and nothing in the house sounded appealing. That was a shit-show.”

“Oh, no. What happened?”

I sigh and pick at a piece of lint on my sleep-pants. “What always happens? Someone recognised her and tweeted about it. Next thing we knew, we had people asking to take pictures with us and demanding to know where you all were or telling her to tell you guys how much they love you. One even said she wanted to have your babies. She was, like, almost fifty, I think. I dunno. I’m just glad that the kid who tweeted actually felt bad about it, y’know? She came up to us as we were getting up to leave, said she was sorry and she didn’t mean to cause a problem.”

“That sounds awful,” he murmurs; I press the phone closer to my ear, closing my eyes and imagining he’s here with me. “I’m sorry your night got ruined.”

“It’s okay. ‘M used to it by now. Anyway. My days are pretty boring. Certainly no antics like you deal with.”

He laughs at that. I grin, victorious, and wish I could hear that sound in person. There isn’t much to talk about now - we’ve already updated each other on current events in our life - but I don’t want to hang up, no matter how exhausted and close to dozing off I am. I lie back down and roll onto my side, shift to get comfortable. The silence between us is awkward yet still comfortable. After a long moment, Liam speaks again, this time about a memory from his childhood. My lips curve upwards as I listen.

“Love?”

“Mm?” His quiet chuckle fills my ear, and I peel my eyes open. “Ah, crap. Sorry, I’m…”

“You’re tired, it’s late, it’s okay.”

“’S’not that late,” I protest.

“It’s, what, almost one in the morning there?”

I check the time on my phone and grimace when I see he’s right. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Go to sleep, then. We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise.”

“But I wanna talk right now.”

“No, you want _me_ to talk while _you_ fall asleep.”

“Okay,” I sigh, screwing up my face, “maybe that’s accurate. But I don’t wanna have to hang up.”

“I know. Goodnight, Koty.”

“Fine. Be mean. Goodnight, Liam,” I whisper with a soft smile.

I vaguely register the extra vehicle in the drive as I make my way up the front walk, but it doesn’t actually hit me until I walk into the house and am bombarded by a wall of noise that the guys have come home from their tour. I hang my purse and keys up on the hook, place my shoes on the rack (something Brianna has been yelling at me for not doing), and amble down the hall. Rounding the corner, I see everyone gathered in the kitchen and grin tiredly; it isn’t even seven o’clock in the evening yet, but I’m drained. I plop down in a kitchen chair and rest my head on the nearest person.

“Oi, do I look like a pillow?” Zayn asks, and I nod against his shoulder.

“A very comfy pillow, now shhh. I’m sleeping.”

A warm hand wraps around my upper arm, and I let myself be tugged to the opposite side. I let out a happy sigh when the scent of Liam fills my nose as I snuggle closer. His lips press against my hair. The voices around us drop off momentarily, which isn’t surprising - cuddling with each other is about as physical as we’ve ever been in front of the others; I’m honestly more shocked at the fact that no one says anything about it, that they all go back to talking to each other about various other things almost immediately. There’s a small scraping sound, and I crack an eye open to see that someone’s put a bowl of soup on the table in front of me. I blow out a breath and wonder if I can get by with not eating. Moving away from where I’m leaning against Liam is probably the worst idea I’ve ever heard. Unfortunately, he nudges me until I sit up. I cross my eyes at him but acquiesce to the silent demand to eat my dinner.

I close my bedroom door and turn to face Liam. Someone in the hall lets out a catcall, but I ignore it in favour of wrapping my arms around Liam’s neck and stretching up to kiss him. His fingers press tightly into my lower back as he pulls me closer. I press another gentle kiss to his lips then pull back a bit.

“I gotta get changed. Scrubs aren’t exactly the best-looking things I’ve ever worn.”

“I think you look amazing,” he whispers before his mouth covers mine.

I let myself get distracted by the taste of him, the solid span of his body pressed against mine, the way we move as one toward the bed. He doesn’t waste time slipping a hand beneath my top, fingers dragging lightly across my skin, and I shiver at the goosebumps that race along my body. I can’t breathe properly as sensations well up inside of me. Nerves grip me tightly, don’t let go, even as my hand slides over his chest, down his side, curving around his hipbone, along his abdomen; his muscles ripple under my touch, and I swallow down the soft moan he lets out. Small trembles rack my body as his hands come to rest on my ass, pulling me even closer. I gasp into the kiss, and he takes the chance to shift, his mouth brushing feather-soft against my jaw, my throat. The heat in my belly grows, explodes with an unfamiliarity that startles me - frightens me.

“W-wait,” I croak, and instantly, Liam stills, his hands pulling away from my body. “Sorry, sorry, just…”

“It’s okay.”

My heart aches fiercely at how understanding, how sweet he is, and tears sting in the corners of my eyes. I roll off of him, curl up against him; he wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his side. I can’t comprehend why he’s even with me, and the longer I’m in his arms, the more confused I get. I drag in a shaky breath but push away the thoughts. I don’t want to make things even more awkward. So I drape an arm over his waist and close my eyes. Maybe sleeping will make things easier to figure out.

Liam kisses my forehead and slips from the room. I smile, burying my face in my pillow. The sky outside is lead, dark grey clouds weighing down on the city. I pad to the window and stare down at the street below. As if he feels my gaze on him, he turns at the end of the sidewalk, waves up at me with a smile, and I wiggle my fingers back, blow him a kiss. He climbs into the waiting cab, and I watch as it rounds the corner and disappears from view. I grab my phone off the nightstand and head toward the bathroom. I have a four-hour shift today, so getting ready for it now is the smart idea. My shower doesn’t take as long as I would have hoped, but I can’t stretch it out - there’s only so much a person can do without it ending up being a waste of water. Since Bea’s the only client I’ll be seeing today, I decide to attach my Eeyore pin to the collar of my lilac scrubs. She gave it to me a few weeks ago, saying she’d seen it in the market and immediately thought of me. I still don’t know whether it’s a compliment that she’s compared me to a morose cartoon donkey or if she implied that I need to work on my social skills.

“Oh, morning, Haz.”

Harry glances up from his phone, lips quirking upwards. “Hey. How are you?”

“Can we, uh, can we talk for a second?”

He pats the couch next to him; I double-check that we’re alone before taking a seat. My legs curl up underneath me, and I lean against the back of the sofa. He sets his phone aside, turns to face me. His green eyes narrow slightly as the seconds tick by without me speaking. Finally, I sigh and shove a hand through my damp hair.

“Okay, you know how Liam and I have been together for a few months now? Like, since about a month before you guys came off tour?”

“I didn’t know it was that long, but yeah, I know you’re dating. Why?”

“Well… ugh. Promise not to tell anyone about this? I mean, it’s embarrassing enough, and I know I could probably talk to Bri about it, but, I dunno. It just feels awkward to have this conversation with her. I mean, I love her to pieces, but yeah, it’s uncomfortable, but I really need to talk to someone, and I figured you’re the one I’m closest to besides her, so -”

“Koty,” he says, and I meet his eye for the first time since I sat down. “You’re rambling.”

I give him an awkward smile, breathing in slowly. “Okay. Well, Liam and I have been together for months, and… we haven’t had sex yet.” I grimace, wait, but he doesn’t speak. Emboldened though still nervous, I continue, “I mean, I _want_ to - or at least, I’m pretty sure I do - but every time I try, I chicken out. And I don’t know why. And the fact that he’s so understanding about it every time I stop things from going further makes it even harder on me to make sense of why I can’t just, just do it.”

“Wow. Er, okay. Well, I can’t really do anything about your… discomfort regarding sex, but maybe Liam can? I mean, _he_’s the one you’re dating, the one you want to do it with, so honestly? He’s pretty much the only one who can help you through whatever fears you have.”

“I had a feeling you were going to say that,” I sigh, dropping my head back, and he chuckles, pats my knee gently.

“Maybe you should tell him about that night when you were eleven. And… what happened the night you called Bri.”

“How do you know what happened?”

Harry’s hands raise instantly, the international symbol for surrender, and he rushes to assure me, “We don’t. Only she knows. I promise. But we all know it was big, since she took off like that without hesitation. The fact that she went immediately to your side even after the fight… Whatever happened couldn’t have been a small thing.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, thanks. For, uh, talking this out with me. And for not telling anyone?”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Thanks. Ah, shit, I gotta go. Work. Woo. I’ll be back around one-thirty or so.”

Bea, thankfully, doesn’t comment on the fact that I’m so clearly caught up in my own thoughts; she only pats my hand gently and makes idle chitchat as I pick up around the house and get her tea ready. The hours somehow manage to slip by, and before I know it, she’s hugging me tightly at the door. My throat tightens, and I wrap my arms around her, force the tears back. I know my smile is wobbly when we part, but she doesn’t say anything about it. The cabbie glances back at me in the rear-view mirror as he slows to a stop at a red light.

“Y’all right, love?”

“Hmm?” I turn my gaze away from the scenery passing by, nod quickly once his question registers. “Still alive.”

He doesn’t speak again until the cab has come to a stop outside the house. A low whistle escapes him when he sees where I live, and I smile awkwardly before sliding out of the backseat. A bird chirps overhead and takes flight from its roost in the tree overhanging the sidewalk; the cab still hasn’t pulled away by the time I unlock the front door and step inside. Locking the door behind me, I peek through the window and breathe out in relief when the car finally takes off. Brianna stands on the bottom stair, brow raised in question, when I turn around. I wave off her curiosity, kick off my tennis shoes, and pass her by as I go upstairs. She follows me.

“What’cha doing?”

“Getting out of these damn scrubs, why?”

“We need a D-and-B date night again. We haven’t had one in a while.”

“We just had one not too long ago. Oh, wait, that one got ruined. Uh, sure, but how drunk are you planning on getting?”

She snorts and flops down on my bed, watching as I strip down to my bra and underwear. “I figured have a few drinks at the club I told you about, dance for a few hours, then call Louis to come pick us up. Then we’ll drop you off at your boo’s, and he and I will come back here and do what we do best.”

“I… really did not need to hear that,” I protest laughingly. “But yeah, I’m in.”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Okay, so wear something sexy, because we need to look damn good and make our guys regret staying home.”

“You’re fucking weird, go away.”

But as I rifle through the clothes in my closet, I find myself getting more and more excited about our newfound plans for the night. When nothing stands out as appropriate clubbing attire, I let out a sigh and decide to worry about it _after_ my shower. I take the time to actually use the sugar scrub that Brianna bought me instead of just saving it for a special occasion; honestly, though - if going out, looking good, and getting drunk with your best friend isn’t a special occasion after both of you working thirty-five-hour weeks, what is? The water is starting to go cold by the time I step out, and I wrap a towel around my body and another one around my hair. Goosebumps race up my flesh when I step out of the hot, humid bathroom into the hall. Mariana’s Trench blares from Brianna’s bedroom, and I roll my eyes in as loving a manner as I possibly can before going to my room.

With my freshly-shaved legs smooth with lotion, I grab a pair of panties from the dresser drawer and slide them on, managing to get my bra hooked on the first try. I’ve just opened my closet door when Brianna bursts into my bedroom. I ignore her, push a hanger to the side so I can examine the next dress. She clears her throat obnoxiously, and I sigh but turn. In her hands is a garment bag, and she’s grinning widely.

“Okay, so. I maybe got a bit excited when I went shopping for a new outfit - you know I stress-shop, don’t judge me. But I saw this and, like, _instantly_ thought of you. And before you automatically say no because of what it looks like, please try it on first. Okay?”

As much as I want to tell her no, I can’t form the word, not with how excited she looks. So I merely exhale as evenly as I can and hold out a hand for the bag. It’s heavier than I expect it to be, and I hang it from the top of my closet door. Brianna squeaks as I unzip the bag to reveal a black spaghetti-strapped dress; I slide my fingers lightly along the lace overlay, smiling despite the length of the dress - or lack thereof. Sighing, I take the dress off the hanger with ginger movements. Surprise flickers in me once the dress settles, and I don’t even mind how short it is. I bite my lip and turn to my best friend. She darts forward to hug me then runs out of my bedroom.

I look in the bag again and huff out a laugh when I see she’s even bought me a pair of ankle shoes to go with the dress. Hooking my fingers in the crook of the heels, I carry them with me to the bathroom so I can do my hair. I braid it loosely then twist the plait around itself until it forms a bun; I pin it in place and examine it closely. It looks fine enough, so I get started on my makeup. I finish with a swipe of a deep plum-red lipstick and turn off the bathroom light, head down the stairs. Brianna waits by the front door, and I sit on the bottom step to put my shoes on. When I stand again, she gives me a scrutinising once-over, and I do the same for her.

The vivid red of her dress brings out the rosiness of her cheeks, her hazel eyes even more striking than usual surrounded by thick, dark lashes, and her strappy heels give her an extra four inches in height. She hasn’t done much with her hair besides curling it, but it works for her - the gentle spirals rest gently against her shoulders and contrast wonderfully against the vixen-esque look of her outfit and makeup. Her lips have been painted a red so dark, I almost wonder if it’s blood. She smiles at me, waves me over.

“Lou! C’mere!”

“What?” he calls back from the living room, and the distraction in his voice is beyond evident.

She sighs, eyes rolling. “We’re heading out.”

“Okay.”

“Can you come say goodbye, please?”

“Fine.” He rounds the corner and stumbles to a stop, and his eyes widen as he gapes at us. “Fuck, you two look amazing.”

Brianna preens under the compliment. “Thanks, babe. Can you take a picture of us?”

He snaps a quick photo on his phone, then repeats the process with Bri’s then mine. I nearly protest when Brianna tweets the photo but then I realise I don’t care. At all. Even when she tags my Twitter name in it. Brianna turns away to call for a cab, and I slide my phone into my clutch and turn to Louis.

“You’re still okay with picking us up, right?”

“Yeah. Just give me a ring, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Okay. Well, there’s a bag just inside my bedroom door, can you bring it with you when you come get us?”

“You should probably put it in the car now if you don’t want him to forget it,” Bri suggests helpfully, and I stifle a giggle at the betrayed expression on Louis’s face.

Thankfully, I don’t have to try to walk up the stairs in my heels; Louis does it for me, coming back a moment later with the bag in hand. I look away as they share a rather explicit kiss. Her lipstick is still flawless when they part, and I’m somewhat jealous of it. A horn honks outside. Louis follows us through the door, puts the bag in the backseat of his car, and disappears back inside as I slide into the cab behind Brianna. The driver turns to look at us, her lips quirking upwards.

“Girls’ night out, I see.”

“Yep. D-and-B date night is officially started!”

“Where to?”

Bri gives the name of the club, and I sit back to enjoy the ride. There isn’t any place to pull in out front, so Brianna and I hurry to exit the cab when it comes to a stop in the middle of the street. The cabbie waves as she pulls away. Bri leads me toward the line already forming outside of the building, and I shiver as a breeze kicks up, pressing close to Brianna even though she’s trembling just as much as I am. Conversations mingle with the thumping of the bass to whichever song is playing inside. I glance up at the sky when I hear the rolling of thunder. _Fantastic._


	26. I Come Undone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _no one knows_ queens of the stone age

We get lucky: It doesn’t start raining until we’re already heading inside, and a shriek sounds from behind us as the doors close. Bright lights streak across the room in arching swirls, bodies writhe around each other on the floor below, loud electronic music fills the air. I grin and latch onto my best friend’s hand as she makes her way toward the stairs. Between the excitement of being out with her and the rhythm of the song, it isn’t long before I’m moving to the beat, laughing and losing myself in the moment. Bri taps my shoulder, mimes taking a drink; I nod but stay where I am. She makes sure that we have full sight of each other as she heads to the bar. Hands land on my waist, and I jerk around to stare wide-eyed at the person.

“I’m so sorry, please pretend we’re friends, please.” The woman glances over her shoulder, and I follow her gaze to see a man across the room, staring intently at her. “Please.”

Chills run down my spine at the vibes I’m getting from him; I plaster a wide, enthusiastic smile on my face and throw my arms around the woman’s shoulders. “Holy shit! Oh, my god! How _are_ you?”

Bri comes back with two drinks in hand. Her brows raise in confusion, and I lean over to explain what’s going on. Actress though she isn’t, the excited squeal she lets out could fool even me, and she pushes my drink toward me. The woman - Jessica, she tells us over the loud music - doesn’t hesitate to dance with us, laughing it up the entire time. The man has vanished by the time I look to where he was, and I wonder if he’s on the move for a new target.

Hours pass by in a blur of movement, cocktail after cocktail, and new friends. Unfortunately, like all good things, our fun has to come to an end, and Bri finishes off her last drink, fingers curling around my arm as she places the glass on a nearby table, and leads our group up the stairs to the exit. We wait together until a cab comes for Ellen and Lisa, who we’ve learnt live together, and another for Brooke and Jessica. Brianna waves then drags me to stand next to the bouncer by the door, muttering something about safety. Ten minutes go by, and finally, Louis pulls up to the curb halfway down the block. Our steps are unsteady as we head toward the car.

World swaying around me, I toe off my heels, grab my bag, and slide out of the backseat. Bri leans out her window, blows me kisses, as I make my way up to the door. I shake my head at her antics and wave back before slipping inside. The tile of the foyer is freezing against my bare feet, and I squeak and speed-walk to the elevator on my tiptoes. As the lift rises, I dig through the clothes in my small duffel until I find the key ring in the bottom. I sift through the keys until I find the one that’ll get me inside - like Bri, the guys (except Zayn) gave me a copy of the keys to their homes in case of emergency.

The apartment beyond is silent when I unlock the front door and step inside. I drop my shoes to the carpet and make my way through the darkened living room to the bathroom. I push the door closed before turning on the light, strip out of my dress and drape it over the towel rod on the wall. Once I’ve wiped off all my makeup, I pull on a pair of cotton shorts and a tank-top then inch down the short corridor, a hand sliding across the cool plaster of the walls, until I reach the bedroom. Moonlight filters through the gap in the curtains and leaves a strip of silver along the floor; even in the dim glow, I can see the silhouette of a sleeping lump on the bed, and I bite back a smile and crawl between the sheets. The heat from Liam’s body fills the space between us, warming me from the inside out - or maybe that’s because of what I feel as I stare at his sleeping face. I sigh quietly. How the Hell am I supposed to talk to him about this? I could barely talk to Harry about it, and Harry already knew about my past. I shake off the thoughts, the worries and doubts and fears. The alcohol I’ve consumed has reached the ‘let’s sleep forever and ever’ stage, so I scoot closer to Liam, curl up against him, and close my eyes, putting off any further thinking in regards to the conversation I know we need to have.

I push my face under my arm to block out the sunlight coming through the window, but the tickling sensation on my back doesn’t stop. Lips press to my shoulder, trail along my skin until they stop at the flesh beneath my ear. I grin and roll over, and Liam kisses me gently. It feels a lot like sinking beneath the surface of an undisturbed pond, kissing him - the peaceful, floating weightlessness wrapping itself around me until I can’t figure out which way is up and down and all around, until my head spins with both lack of oxygen and the realisation that I’m infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things but still so secure in my existence right here, right now. I drag in an unsteady breath after he pulls away, my eyes slowly peeling open as I try to get myself under control again.

“Well, good morning to you, too.”

He lays his head down on the pillow next to mine, fingers twirling at a flyaway hair that’s come out of my braid through the night. “Morning, love. What are you doing here? Figured you’d be home sleeping off the hangover.”

“Nah. I’d still be here if I was hungover.” I press the tips of my fingers against his jaw and inhale slowly. “I came by last night so we, uh, could talk, but since it was, like, two in the morning, you were already asleep.”

“Mm? Talk about what?”

_This is it_, I think to myself, and I force a smile. “Are... are you happy? I mean, in our relationship.”

“Absolutely. You’re funny, smart, gorgeous, a great kisser, so sweet... why would I not be happy?”

“Because, well, we haven’t - y’know.”

I frown at his chuckle, but then his lips are against my forehead, the kiss smoothing out the line between my brows. So I let him pull me into a tight hold. My mind is racing as the time comes, when I know I can’t keep everything locked inside, when even his patience - never-ending as it seems to be - will run out.

“Would I _like_ to take you to bed?” he asks softly, shrugging. “Yes, of course. But I told you, you’re worth waiting for.”

I let out a dry, humourless laugh and pull away; it’s harder than it has a right to be to ignore the confusion and hurt in his dark eyes. “There are some things you should know first. Then you can decide, I guess.”

I twist until I’m facing away from him. Looking at him is only going to make this more difficult, and I don’t think I’ll be able to tell him if I can see the disgust on his face. His arms tug me against his chest; his heartbeat is strong behind my back, and I close my eyes, swallow thickly. There wasn’t any hesitation before he held me, even though he knows what I’m about to tell him is going to change things. Hell, I’ll be surprised if he still wants me after this. But Harry’s words echo in my head, and even I can’t deny the logic he used. So I clear my throat and recount on a whisper the events of that night when I was eleven, the way it’s screwed with who I am on a base level ever since. The words come easier though I swore I’d never speak them again, and the fact that Liam stays silent as I speak keeps me from overthinking, from stopping myself from continuing. My voice falters as I start to tell him about the party - and what Jacob had done. He holds me tighter, offers support and strength, and I take as much of it as I can and push through, even while my mind dredges up the fragments of that awful night. Eventually, there’s nothing left to say, and I finish talking and close my mouth hard enough, my teeth clacked together.

Liam’s breathing is ragged in my ear, and his hold on me grows tighter, almost painful, when I start to roll over. I breathe as evenly as I can through the discomfort of being squeezed around my middle the way I am, wait for him to finally say something, anything.

“I am… so incredibly angry right now,” he mutters and buries his face against my hair. “I, I can’t even put into words how - love, you should not have had to experience any of that. I’m so, so, so sorry that you did. Can I just say that I’m utterly in awe of how brave and strong you are?”

My eyes close as they fill with tears, and I don’t even try to hold back. I just let myself cry while he keeps me wrapped up in his arms. He whispers quietly into my skin, words that I can’t make out but the emotion in them is enough.


	27. I've Never Been This Far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _real fine place to start_ sara evans

Rolling onto my belly, I rest my head on my folded arms and stare through half-closed eyes at Liam, watch as he scrolls through his emails. I know there are loads of chores that need done at home and he probably has his own things to do, but I can’t be bothered to give a damn. Not when I’m less than a foot away from him, not when he’s stretched out with so much bare skin on display. He glances at me, grins. My lips curve upwards, and I stretch to press a soft kiss to his bicep.

“Sorry, I’m almost done.”

“No worries, babe. Do what needs to be done. Want some breakfast?”

“That’d be great.”

He pauses, bites his lower lip, and I frown then gasp. “Don’t you dare.”

“You haven’t burnt down Lou and Bri’s kitchen, so I guess I can trust you to cook in mine.”

I swat at his arm playfully and push myself to sit up. Stretching my arms over my head, I make my way across the room, pulling the door closed behind me. I grumble to myself as I search through the cupboards and fridge. There is an abundance of possibilities, but nothing sounds appealing - mostly because it means the longer I’m in the kitchen, the longer I’m away from Liam. Eventually, I settle on making two bowls of cereal. He can’t worry that I’m starting a fire on his stove if I don’t cook, right? Pain blossoms in my toes when I kick lightly at the door that I stupidly closed on my way out, and his laugh filters through the door, comes closer. An enormous smile splits his face as he opens the door for me; I slip past him and set a bowl on the nightstand on his side of the bed before carefully climbing onto my side. All I can hear for the next half-hour is the crunch of cereal as we chew and the occasional shout outside.

“What sounds good to watch?” he asks, setting his empty bowl aside, and I snuggle into his side with a soft sigh.

“I honestly have no idea. TV hasn’t been really a big thing for me lately, between work and _Scrubs_ marathons with Bri.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “Didn’t you two finish watching it a couple of weeks ago?”

“Yes. But we restarted it. Again. We kept watching episodes without each other, so now we’ve signed an oath that it won’t be on the television unless both of us have our asses on the couch first.”

“I don’t know if you’re joking,” admits Liam after a long moment.

“I’m not.”

And I’m really, really not. The “contract” is pinned to the fridge at home, a second copy taped to the wall by the television. With the constant physical reminder of our promise to each other, it’s kept Brianna and me from watching without the other; it does mean, however, that we don’t get the chance to binge-watch nearly as often as before since our schedules conflict most of the time. I rest my head on his chest once he’s settled in beside me, relaxing into the warmth of his body.

Whatever show he put on is quickly ignored when his finger hooks under my chin, tilts my head back. It’s nothing demanding, just a soft, unhurried kiss, but it still sends my blood boiling in my veins. He doesn’t ask for more than I want to give, and I find myself wondering again if it would really be so bad to try. It isn’t a new argument - I’ve had this fight with myself multiple times in the last week alone - but I still don’t have an answer for that particular question. An admittedly large part of me is already on the ledge, waiting for permission to leap into the unknown, while another part shrinks back away from the risk of unfamiliarity. Even I can tell, though, that the larger part of me is close to winning. I’m tired of being afraid, of holding back because of fear or insecurity. I only need to figure out how to get those fears and insecurities to loosen their hold on me.

The room grows darker as time passes, and I roll over to glance at the time on my phone. It’s almost six in the evening. I huff out a laugh when I realise we’ve literally spent the day in bed, only getting up to use the toilet, get a snack or drink, or to brush our teeth. The majority of the time, we stayed in between the sheets as we watched awful reality television and cartoons created for kids. It’s been pleasant. Comfortable. Uninterrupted by life and all the demands of responsibilities, friends, the world outside of the room. Warm fingers glide across the skin of my shoulderblade, and I shiver as goosebumps erupt in the wake. I sit up, turning to face Liam, and catch his hand in mine. He shifts until he’s on his side and frowns in confusion.

“I... I’m sorry I unloaded all of that on you.”

“I’m not.” He squeezes my hand when I open my mouth to protest. “I’m _honoured_ that you trusted me enough to tell me.”

“Well, it’s been - holy shit, it’s been about a year and a half since I met you and a year since we became friends. And we’ve been dating for almost five months. I think it’s about time I trusted you, right?” I joke, shrugging.

He grins, tugs me to him. I don’t even fight it as I get swept up in the taste and sensations of him kissing me senseless. Thoughts flee my mind, burn up with the flames that burst into life. His hands curl around my hips, and I gasp quietly when he lifts me into his lap; my legs automatically part to press against the sides of his thighs, and his arms hold me tight, so damn tight that I feel safe, secure, sheltered from the memories and demons I’ve been running from. Heat pools in my gut, spreading through my body, and my hands tremble as I cup Liam’s jaw. I push closer, my head falls back, and my lungs burn as I drag in a ragged breath. Sharp contrasts with tender, and a moan is dragged out of me at the scrape of his teeth against my throat.

I press my fingertips into his shoulders until my knuckles are aching with the pressure as I give up, let Liam push and pull, let myself drown in the heady weightlessness that’s overtaking me as my hips shove down against him. His hand slides into my hair; I tilt my head down to capture his mouth with mine, and he swallows the noises that escape me without permission. My heart feels like it’s bound to burst, and my head spins, but I’m prisoner to the high that I’m chasing. My breath stutters when his fingers skim across the curve of my ass, but I can’t stop, I can’t care about the fact that this is all so new when it feels so right. I bite my lip to stop from crying out as his hand slides down the front of my shorts, his thumb pressing gently in slow, steady circles. I yank my head back, my forehead falling to his shoulder as I ride out the overwhelming sensations that crash over me. His movements slow, come to a stop, when I let out a nearly-inaudible whimper.

“Holy shit,” I murmur once I can speak, my breath still coming out in heavy pants. “Holy. Shit.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“It was amazing. Holy shit.”

He huffs out a laugh and kisses me softly, the sweetness at odds with the way I feel like I’ve just surfaced from a wild ocean. “Would... Do you want me to leave the room?”

I pull back and blink owlishly at him, confused. Then I realise he is still hard beneath me, and my cheeks go aflame as the implications of his question hit me with the force of a freight train. His eyes are gentle, and there’s a slight flush to his face, but I see no hint of demands. So I draw in a steadying breath and shake my head. His lower lip gets caught between his teeth, and I lean forward to rest my forehead against his. The words shake, stumble out of me - awkward, clumsy, but sincere.

“I wanna, uh, I wanna make you feel as good as you’ve made me feel.”

My skin feels tight as he carefully shifts me off of him so he can push his sleep-pants down his thighs. I bite the inside of my cheek at the sight of his boxers, tented in his arousal. He hesitates then reaches for me. I go willingly enough, curling against his side when he’s finished baring himself. My eyes flutter closed as his hand wraps around himself with a familiarity that sends ripples of embarrassment through me. His heartbeat under my ear is steady, and it emboldens me to at least watch as he strokes himself.

It’s not as awkward, really, as I thought it would be to be witness to this; my nerves make it difficult but I manage to trail my fingers along his thigh. I smile slightly at the way his breath hitches, and I take strength from how he’s evidently affected and explore over the silky skin of his cock, smooth and heated beneath my fingertips. His hand falls away, and I take over. My motions aren’t nearly as practiced or seamless as his, but his head drops back against the pillow, and he groans aloud anyway. A litany of curses falls from his lips as his hips pump up into my loose fist, his thrusts becoming jerky, stilted, after a few minutes.

I press a kiss to his ribs and move away. Liam laughs, reaches for the bedside table, and grabs a box of tissues from the drawer after turning on the lamp. He hands me a couple before getting to work cleaning himself up. I pad down the hallway to the bathroom. Washing my hands, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Bright spots of red have taken up residence on my cheeks, and there’s a brightness in my eyes that I didn’t expect to see after - _that_. I giggle to myself but head back to the bedroom.

Liam’s dressed again, stretched out on the bed, and I hurry across the room and leap lightly onto my side of the mattress. His arms open instantly; I don’t hesitate, just cuddle into him. He turns off the lamp, and the room is plunged into darkness split only by the weak moonlight coming in through the window. It doesn’t take long for Liam to fall asleep next to me, but I can’t seem to get my mind to shut up. I don’t really know how I feel about what we did - sure, it was… absolutely wonderful while it was happening. Liam never pressured me, never asked for more than I could give, never forced me into doing something I wasn’t comfortable with; I know, without a doubt, that if I’d said no at any point, he would have stopped immediately and made sure I was okay. He’s proved himself to be that kind of guy so many times in our relationship. But it feels so odd to be able to think about sex in any capacity as a good thing, a tremendously amazing experience, after everything I’ve believed for so long. It’s almost impossible to bridge the gap between _belief_ and _reality_. I decide to ignore it as the warmth and solid breadth of Liam’s body pressed to my back forces my muscles relax. I fall asleep to the soft puffs of his breath against my neck, my body lax and without tension, and the steady beat of my heart beating in time with my thoughts of just how much I’ve grown to care for Liam.


	28. It Feels Like I'm Finally Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _finally free_ niall horan

With a sigh, I close the front door behind me. The house beyond is silent, and normally, I would be glad for that, but today? Today I want noise. I want to be pestered. I hang up my jacket and keys, lock the door behind me, and shuffle through the house to the living room. Turning on the television does nothing to dispel the loneliness I feel - especially not when I realise someone’s left it on the entertainment channel and some woman with too-straight, too-white teeth is talking about none other than One Direction. More specifically, she’s rambling on about Louis and Brianna, who’ve been spotted around London multiple times, and how an “anonymous source” is claiming that they eloped in the dark of night so that their unborn child won’t grow up a bastard. I snort derisively. Bri being married _and_ pregnant is news to me, and I live with her, for God’s sake.

I watch without interest as the boxed-in image in the corner switches from Bri and Lou’s happy, smiling faces to one of Liam. He’s clearly angry in that photo, and I grimace at it. I remember that picture; it was taken shortly after I moved in, and he’d just broken up with his girlfriend. We’d all gone to a club to get drunk and have fun with only one goal in mind: Help Liam forget, even for a moment, that his now-ex had broken his heart. I mean, we all knew the relationship was nearing its end, considering he’d not spoken to her in almost two weeks, but still, to show up at her apartment only for her to push a box of stuff into his arms and slam the door in his face was not helpful. At all. But when the camera had been shoved in his face, Liam hadn’t thought, just reacted, scowling and pushing past the pap without a word.

The woman on the screen smiles a fake, overly-cheery smile, leaning forward on her stool. “As I’m sure you remember us reporting, Liam and girlfriend, Valerie, broke up months ago. We were all so upset, we really thought those two had a shot! But it seems as if not all is lost in the name of love for this hunk. A source close to him reports that he is well over that break-up and already happily moved on with another. The source didn’t name names, but if we judge this photo for ourselves, I’m pretty confident that Liam’s new love is the same girl spotted coming out of Harry Styles’s apartment last year. So what could this mean? Does Harry know his best friend has stolen his girl? And is this girl going to make her way through the entire group? Only time will tell!”

“Yeah, sure, I’m fucking my way through the group,” I mutter as I locate the remote stuffed between the cushions. I flip through the channels while I continue grumbling, “Never mind the fact I haven’t even fucked my boyfriend, I’m definitely having sex with all five of the guys. Ya got me.”

“Talking to yourself is usually the first sign of insanity.”

I sigh, dropping the remote to the couch once I land on some re-runs of _Full House_, and turn my head to look at Liam. “Hi. Kiss me.”

“Bad day?” he asks quietly before he does as I so nicely requested of him.

“Nah. Just tired. I love Rosie, I really do, but holy damn, she demands so much of me. I get it. It’s my job to do what she needs done, but I literally don’t even get more than thirty seconds to pee before she’s asking me to get her tea or warm up some soup or put away said soup after three spoonfuls or to brush her cat, never mind the fact that I sneeze and itch constantly whenever I even so much as look at the damn thing.”

“Love, I… I think you might be allergic to cats.”

I pause, mouth dropped open, and I think about what Liam’s said. He might be right. I really hope he’s wrong, though. I’ve always wanted to have a cat, and having an allergy to felines may actually put a damper on that plan. Frowning, I sink further into the couch cushions and sigh blissfully as his fingers card through my hair. He pushes me to shift until he’s stretched out between me and the back of the sofa, and I give him a small smile.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. When do you leave?”

“My flight is at, like, ten tomorrow night.” I pout. “Can’t you come with me?”

“I’d love to, but I can’t.”

“Fine. Leave me to figure out how to spend two weeks with my family without you.”

He chuckles, presses a kiss to my temple, and we settle in to watch the sitcom on the TV. Since I share a house with our friends, we have done rather well keeping our activities confined to either my bedroom or his apartment. It was the one thing that Louis ordered me to remember once everyone knew Liam and I were together: _No desecrating communal spaces_. So we’ve kept everything rated “E for everyone” whenever Liam is around, no matter how hard it is to keep my hands to myself. It has been a month since that night at his place, and I’ve spent as many nights with him as I can. My feelings toward sex have shifted. I’m still uncomfortable with the idea of going even further than we already have, but the thought doesn’t fill me with panic any longer. I wonder idly, as Michelle falls off her horse, whether I’ll ever get to the point where I wont have hang-ups regarding the actual act of sex.

Brianna’s voice echoes through the foyer an hour and a half later, and Liam squeezes me gently before releasing me. My fingertips drag through his hair as I walk out of the living room; my best friend struggles to get her shoes off by the door, and I smile to myself, grab the grocery bags from her hands. She grins in thanks, bending down to untie her laces. I carry the bags to the kitchen and set them on the counter. I frown at the container of kale that I pull out.

“Who the fuck eats kale?” I call over my shoulder.

“Someone with mature taste buds,” she responds as she ambles into the room. “Know your boyfriend’s asleep on the couch?”

“You’re kidding me. It’s been, like, thirty seconds!”

She shrugs and starts putting away the perishables. “Didja wear him out?”

“So who has mature taste buds, ‘cause I know it ain’t you.”

“Oh, nice deflection! I’ll allow it. Olly’s gonna be coming for dinner tonight, and she promised that she knows how to make kale taste good.”

“Do I look like a cow?”

“Cows don’t eat kale.”

“Neither do I.”

Her laughter follows me out of the kitchen, but I hear her yell something about I can either eat it willingly or have it forced down my throat. I mimic her tone as I make my way back to the living room. True to her word, Liam’s eyes are closed, his breathing steady and deep. A small spark of guilt flickers in my gut. I know he hadn’t fallen asleep until almost two this morning, mostly because I hadn’t, either; I pull the blanket off the back of the sofa, draping it over my sleeping boyfriend. He doesn’t even stir as I press a kiss to his temple. I’m pretty sure he’ll wake when the rest of our friends get here - Olly’s really good at making her presence known immediately.

I take the beer that Harry passes over, curl up where I’m sandwiched between the arm of the couch and Liam. He’s been quiet since dinner ended. He hadn’t done more than let out a quiet chuckle, one that sounded forced, when my face had screwed up into a disgusted grimace at the taste of the kale, even though everyone else laughed and mocked my face. With a sigh, I wrap my hand around Liam’s, try not to take it personally when his fingers don’t link with mine immediately. They do eventually, and I relax as much as I’m able to. Our friends laugh and joke amongst each other, and I occasionally pipe in with some snarky remark whenever I feel it’s appropriate. My thoughts, however, are firmly on my boyfriend and his behaviour. I try my damnedest to figure out why he’s acting so off. _Maybe it’s because you still haven’t had sex_, a voice whispers in my brain; everything in my mind falls silent at that, and my breath hitches. Could it be…? I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He seemed perfectly fine earlier, so if he’s irritated at the fact we haven’t gone further, why would it be bothering him most now?

“You good, Deej?”

I avert my gaze to Brianna, swallowing thickly at her concerned expression. I nod slowly and force a grin. Her furrowed brows tell me she doesn’t believe me, but thankfully, she doesn’t ask any further questions, just hesitates then goes back to her conversation with Olly. The hours drag on, and eventually, I push myself to my feet, say a general goodnight to everyone, and make my way down the hall. There’s a lull in conversation coming from the living room, and I pause halfway up the staircase. No one comes after me. My lungs grow tight when I realise the implications of that, but I push on, going to my bedroom and closing the door quietly behind me. I don’t bother turning on the light as I strip out of my scrubs; the blankets are cold, the bed far too large for just me. I curl up into a tight ball and close my eyes against the tears that slip free, drop onto my pillow.

**……………**

“Let me know when you land, okay?”

I nod and let Bri drag me into a tight embrace. When we part, she rests her hands on my shoulders and holds me still as she scrutinises my face. I know I look like Hell right now - I hadn’t slept well at all last night, the other side of my bed remaining empty, and my worries got the best of me; once I heard four doors shutting as my friends went to bed, I tiptoed down the hall to the guest room at the end, peered around the edge of the door, and confirmed that Liam had chosen to sleep away from me for the night. Seeing him preparing for bed in another room hadn’t exactly made it easy for me to go back to my own and immediately fall into a peaceful sleep. I’d tossed and turned all night and woken up feeling worse than I did last night.

“I’m okay,” I offer in a quiet voice, and she shakes her head. “Muffin, I promise. I’m okay.”

“Talk to him. All right?”

“Yeah...”

With that, I grab my duffel bag and turn on my heel, hurry through the drizzling rain toward the taxi waiting for me. Brianna stands in the doorway to the house until we reach the corner, and I settle back in the seat once she’s disappeared. I hate that I lied to her. I’m not okay. I’m confused, mixed-up, and hurt. The more I think about it, the more upset I get; why couldn’t Liam just talk to me? Why did he avoid me and make me sleep alone? The glass of the window is cold against my forehead, and I snort to myself at the imagery: cold glass for a cold soul. Oh, god, I’m getting maudlin. Shaking the thought away, I force myself to think about the flight, seeing my family again, anything but my boyfriend.

__________________

The plane hits the ground roughly, and I grit my teeth as it taxis down the tarmac. It’s been an awful flight - between the screaming kid six rows behind me, the businessman next to me constantly muttering about something or other between bouts of snoring, and the fact that we hit a patch of turbulence within three hours of take-off and another not even thirty minutes ago, I’m beyond ready to be off this damn plane and on solid ground. Unfortunately, I have to wait for the rest of the passengers to get out of my way in order for me to reach my goal.

Anna’s face is almost lost in the crowd by the time I enter the airport; the only reason I see her at all is because of the enormous sign she holds high in the air. I roll my eyes as I read it before pushing through the people who linger around. _Welcome home, Prisoner #02985! We know you didn’t actually murder that guy! And even if you did, he deserved it!_ She doesn’t see me during my approach, so I take an immense pleasure in making her jump when I suddenly speak directly into her ear.

“That’s not funny, brat.”

The poster-board thumps off the top of my head as she spins to face me. “You made it! Hi! Oh, I missed you!”

“Missed you, too, Banana. Ready?”

“Yep. Luggage?”

“Just this.”

I hold up my duffel bag, and she nods, tucks the sign under her shoulder. We’re followed by a scraping noise as the bottom drags along the ground, but neither of us pay any mind to it. She prattles on about her boyfriend, work, and the fact that she’s excited to finally head off to college. I somehow manage to make the appropriate noises of acknowledgement at the right times, so her words don’t stop, she doesn’t notice how little attention I’m truly giving her. She finally draws in a breath and glances over at me when we’re ten minutes away from the house.

“So. Tell me everything. Please, I’m dying.”

There isn’t much to tell her - we’ve kept up a steady stream of contact ever since I moved to London, and she already knows about basically everything that’s happened. I bite my tongue so I won’t blurt out anything about the situation with Liam, but I do recount a memory from the last time I went into the studio with them. She doesn’t find it as funny to hear about Niall and Louis almost breaking a storage room door; I just chalk it up to it being a “had to be there” kind of event. It feels awkward, being less than two feet from my sister and not having anything to say. We always were close, and the distance between us now isn’t a physical one.

My mother lets me take a few hours to rest up after my flight before she descends on me with questions and fretting. She gives my newly-cut hair a disappointed look but keeps her comments to herself. I find myself explaining that it was getting difficult to deal with having such long hair when I was constantly having to pull it back in a ponytail or bun while working, and now I don’t have to, a headband does the trick just fine. She merely _hmm_s and busies herself with rummaging through the junk drawer. She comes up with a pair of scissors, and I recognise them instantly as her fabric cutters. The back of my hand stings with the echoes of every smack I ever received for using them on anything other than fabric. My mom pats my cheek lovingly as she passes, and I stare after her. _This is fun_, I think. I sigh, knowing it’s all about to get so much worse.

No one speaks over dinner, and I certainly am not going to be the one to break the awkward silence. My parents don’t even look at each other as they eat; I shoot Anna a questioning look, but she shrugs. She told me earlier that this is the first time our father has spent any amount of time in the house since the divorce proceedings began, usually preferring to pick my sister up by waiting in the driveway. I choke down another bite of my pork chop then let out a breath. Evidently, I _am_ going to be the one to break the awkward silence.

“So, uh, the food’s delicious, Mama.”

“Thank you, DJ.”

“I... I just wanted to say that I’m so grateful to you both. Everything you’ve ever done for me. And the fact that you helped me move to London means more than I can ever say.” I draw in a steadying breath as everyone stares at me; Anna bites her lower lip to hide her smile, and I avoid her gaze and watch my mother’s face closely. “Living with Bri has been, it’s been fantastic. I have a job I love, a boyfriend who treats me well, and I feel like it’s all making me a better person. So I’ve made the decision that I’m, uh, I’m gonna try for citizenship the second I can.”

“Excuse me?”

My father frowns, holds a hand up. “Hang on, Missy. Dakota, you’re not seriously considering remaining in London all for a _boy_.”

“Of course not,” I scoff. “I’m not stupid. I’m staying in London because I like it there. I’m happy there. I… I really think I could have a life there.”

“But the boyfriend is an important factor?”

“Oh, my God, Dad, no. He’s not even a factor at all. A bonus, sure, but not a factor. Even if he and I weren’t dating, I’d still want to stay there. I’m _happy_ there. Isn’t that what you want for me, for me to be happy and thriving?”

“I just don’t get why you can’t be happy here,” says my mom with a delicate sniff, and I throw my hands into the air, slamming into the back of my chair.

“Because there’s nothing here for me. Besides you three, name one thing in my life that I have here.”

“What about that Jacob kid, you two seemed to be getting close.”

“Yeah, until he tried to force me into sex. That kinda put a major fucking damper on that friendship.” Shoving my plate away from me, I stand abruptly, ignoring the screeching of my chair against the floor. “I gotta get outta here.”

I don’t turn around even as my family calls after me. The door slams behind me; birds take flight from the trees at the echoing, and I run my hand roughly through my hair. I honestly should have known this would have been their reactions, with the way Mama had tried to convince me to stay when the plan was only for six months and how often both of my parents made comments during our weekly Skype conversations about when I would be coming back. But I can’t help but wish that they would have been more supportive of this decision. All my life, they have always made a huge deal about Anna and me being healthy, happy, safe, but now that I’m making a choice that honestly makes my life worth living, they’re suddenly changing their tune? I kick at a rock along the side of the driveway, listen to it skid and clatter against the gravel.

“Fuck it,” I mutter. “I don’t need their approval. I’m doing this, with or without them.”

It still hurts, though. There’s no way of denying the pain that sits like a stone in the bottom of my gut, the hollowness in my chest. I may not _need_ their approval, but I sure as Hell _want_ it. Sniffing back tears, I climb up to sit on the trunk of Anna’s car, leaning to rest against the back window. Deep navy velvet stretches as far as I can see, the edges tinted with red-gold through the trees. Tiny pinpricks of white dot the expansive evening sky, and the silhouette of birds slip by overhead, making their way to their nests for the night. A cool breeze picks up, and I close my eyes as the music of rustling leaves fills the air.

“They’ll get over it.”

Anna clambers up to sit next to me, spreading my hoodie over me, and I sigh heavily as she cuddles against my side. We don’t talk, just stare up at the slowly-darkening sky. The last fireflies of the season flicker in and out of sight across the yard, and my sister giggles when one lands on the end of her nose, its tail lighting up momentarily and leaving a green glow on her skin. The bug takes off after a second. I turn my head to look at Anna.

“How the Hell can they make me feel so awful about what I wanna do with my life?”

“They’re parents. They learn that skill, like, as soon as the baby pops out, I guess.” She digs in her pocket and passes over a pink Starburst. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re doing the right thing.”

“Thanks, Banana.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Why didn’t you tell us about what Jacob did?”

My breath leaves me in a rush, and the world spins around me. I sit up, wrapping my arms around me, as I think about what I can say. Eventually, I shrug and shake my head. She understands, the way she always has, and wraps an arm around my back. We sit quietly together, and I take some of the comfort she offers, take solace in the fact that she isn’t pushing for answers. She’s only eighteen, but she’s probably the wisest young woman I know.

She goes inside before I do, leaving me alone in the dark. Crickets chirp in the grass, and woodland creatures move about in the trees. I think about the creek that winds through the trees not even a ten minutes’ walk to the west. Fragments of the screams rebound in my mind, and the image of the pale face slipping into the water drifts to the forefront of my brain, freezing there as if I’ve pressed pause on a movie. I tremble all over, and it isn’t from the cold metal I’m sitting on. Shaking the thoughts away, I slide clumsily off the trunk and make my way to the door of the house, the lights behind the glass shining merrily against the black of the night.

I shove my clothes, fresh from the dryer, into my duffel bag and slam it closed. The zipper gets caught on its track, and I yank it viciously until it finally starts moving again. The weekend has been a total bust. My mom isn’t talking to me except to try to convince me to stay, that London will never be my home; my father’s only opened his mouth to make snarky comments about me becoming a UK citizen because of my boyfriend, and no amount of arguing will change his mind. Hell, I’ve even had enough of Anna and her long conversations about Dylan this, Dylan that, you’ll love him, DJ, I promise. I’m angry that my visit with my family has been shattered so effortlessly, and I’m utterly embarrassed that my sister has had sex before I have, because _of course_ she’s told me all about that. I send a text with shaking fingers to my family, telling them how glad I am to have seen them and that I’m sorry to be leaving while they’re all out of the house. Anna sends me a message outside of the group chat, telling me to not leave yet, that she’s on her way home. I send a thumbs-up and share my location with her then grab a bottle of water on my way out the door.

The creek is just as I remember it - the muddy water forces it way over and around the rocks, and bubbles dot the surface. I latch onto a branch that hangs over the bank, step carefully through the wet soil until I reach the trunk, the one that’s been there for as long as I’ve been coming here. The rotten wood creaks ominously under my foot, and I hesitate but step up onto it anyway. My squeak echoes through the trees when the log shifts, but the sound is drowned out by the burbling of the creek. I stare down at my warped reflection, twisting and swirling with the current. I know if I look up and to my right, I’ll see the tree I perched in that night, and further along the bank is the spot where I witnessed the event that changed everything. Being here during the daytime isn’t as frightening, but the memories it brings back scares me just the same.

Anna’s voice calls out from behind me, and I turn to see her walking my way. I wave a hand then gingerly climb off the trunk, breathe out a sigh of relief when my feet touch solid ground. Before I get too far into the woods, I look over my shoulder at the creek, feeling like something in me has finally settled, finally let go of its hold on me.


	29. Drown in My Desire for You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _i'm the only one_ melissa etheridge

“I’m back!” I shout as I close the door behind me.

No one answers, not like I expected anyone to. Louis’s car is in the garage, which means he and Brianna took hers to wherever they went. And if they’re gone, it would stand to reason that our friends wouldn’t be here, either. I leave my shoes in the middle of the foyer and drag my duffel bag up the stairs, listening to the thuds as it bounces against each step. I toss the bag onto my bed, unzipping it slowly, as I try to think about what the Hell I’m going to do for the next ten days of my vacation. Thomas had been surprised when I put in my request for time off but approved it readily enough, and going back to work before my scheduled return runs the risk of being too humiliating. There would be questions as to why I came back earlier than planned, and telling everyone _Oh, my family didn’t want to see me, and I barely lasted three days_ is… not something I’m willing to do.

Once my clothes are in the hamper, I plop down to sit on the end of my bed, pulling my phone from my sweater pocket. I know none of my friends expect me to be in London right now - as far as they’re all aware, I’m still in the backwoods of Tennessee, having the time of my life visiting my family for the first time since I moved in with Brianna and Louis. I scroll through my texts with Harry, then Bri, then Niall, then the one person who I haven’t heard from since I left - Liam. Sighing, I decide to be the one to reach out.

**To: Liam** _Hey..._

His response comes quickly, much faster than I anticipated given the radio silence: _Hey, love. How’s the trip going?_

**To: Liam** _It isn’t. _

**From: Liam** _I’m... confused... what do you mean?_

**To: Liam** _It means it isn’t. _  
**To: Liam** _What are you up to?_

**From: Liam** _Packing. Tour starts tomorrow :(_

**To: Liam** _Want some help?_

**From: Liam** _Absolutely. Got a wand that can magic you here?_

I barely remember to lock the door behind me on my way down the walk to the taxi I called. I shove the keys into my purse and sit back, my heart thumping painfully against my ribs. I’m still so angry that Liam’s avoided talking to me for the better part of a week, but seeing him is more important than holding onto my hurt. My toes tap against the floorboard; I smooth out the hem of my T-shirt - one of his that I took after the third night of him sharing my bed - and stare out the window. The speakers of the cab pump out soft classical music, and I hum quietly along to the lilt of flutes and slide of strings.

Eventually, the cabbie comes to a stop outside of the familiar building, and I slip out of the car after paying. The elevator ride seems to take forever, but maybe it only feels that way due to the fact my blood is singing, burning in my veins, with how close I am to finally being with him again. The door squeaks lightly when I push it closed behind me, but the voice in the bedroom doesn’t stop. So I blow out a breath of relief, slide off my shoes, and tiptoe through the apartment on silent feet until I reach the bedroom.

Liam folds a shirt and sets it aside, reaching for a pair of jeans. I watch for a moment, enjoy the way his muscles bunch up under the fabric of his T-shirt as he moves. The want that’s lingered in my gut, curled up like a sleeping cat, peaks and stretches, purring to life; I cross the room quickly and put myself between my boyfriend and his suitcase. He lets out an _mmph_ as I kiss him, his lips unmoving under mine for a split second, but then his hands come up to cradle my face. I sigh into the kiss, push closer, and my body moves on its own. My fingers slide between his skin and shirt, rucking the cotton up, and across his abs. His lips part, and I take it as permission. Fire erupts along my flesh, swallows me whole. His fingers wrap around my wrists, pulling my hands down from where they’ve steadily been pushing his T-shirt up to expose more skin, and he pulls away.

“Love? What are you doing?”

“I...” I exhale sharply and force myself to meet his gaze. “I want to try.”

His breath comes out in a gust, and his grip on my wrists turns gentle as he stares down at me. “Where is this coming from?”

“Does it matter?”

“_Yes_. Why wouldn’t it matter? Look, sit down. Talk to me. Okay? I don’t want you to think you _have_ to do this just because I’m about to go on tour. If you’re not ready, then you’re not ready. We can wait as long as you need to.”

“I want to try, Liam. I want to do this, because holy fuck, I’ve missed you. So much. And even though you’ve been basically ignoring me for the last five days, I... I’m pretty sure I love you, because I can’t even be _mad_ at the fact you haven’t wanted anything to do with me, all that matters is that I’m with you. Y’know?”

He frowns down at our hands, and my heart races in my chest. I feel like I could throw up at any second; _Oh, God, please don’t let him reject me_. “It’s not, not that I didn’t want to talk to you or be around you. I promise. I just woke up from that nap in a bad mood, and then you went to bed. We usually went to bed together, and when you didn’t ask if I was coming, I assumed you were mad at me, so I gave you the space I thought you wanted.”

“I thought you were upset with me,” I admit, shrugging.

“Why would - because we haven’t had sex.” It isn’t a question.

“Kinda?”

“You silly girl,” he chuckles before leaning over to kiss me.

I melt into his touch, the soft drag of his lips against mine, the way fireworks spark up my spine; I shiver with the anticipation, and his hands ghost up my sides. The voice that’s always put a stop to this is, oddly enough, silent for now, so I don’t stop him, don’t pull back from this. Liam’s grin is sweet yet sharp when we part. I let him push me gently backwards until I’m lying on my back, and I bite my lip as he nips at the flesh of my throat. His body is warm, solid. I slide my hands to press against his shoulderblades, gasping as he pushes closer. With a smile, he kisses the tip of my nose and inches down, pressing soft kisses into my skin. My body is weightless and floating high above us as he strips my clothes off with careful hands. He keeps his gaze firmly on my face, eyes watching for any sign of my discomfort. I smile as reassuringly as I can - it works, evidently, because he nods almost to himself and lowers his body down to bite tenderly at the jut of my hip.

My breath punches out of me with the first tentative swipe of his tongue, and my hips jerk up into the sensation. He chuckles, hot and wet, and it feels… so different than I anticipated as he repeats the motions. It’s a good different, though, one that I’m uncomfortable with but also desirable. Unfortunately, that part of me that has been so hesitant has woken up with the surge in my arousal, and I manage to croak out a _please, wait, stop_ as he slides a finger inside of me. He immediately stills, looks up at me along my body. I cover my face with my hand and drag in an unsteady breath. He waits until I nod a couple of times before he resumes his task, and I try my best to relax into the way my body is reacting: need and cravings war with anxiety, my heart beating an agonising rhythm under my sternum, my brain attempting to disconnect and let my body take over. As amazing as it feels, though, I can’t fully shut my thoughts off, and my muscles repeatedly tense up in their efforts to flee from such an unfamiliar situation.

“Take a breath, darling. Just relax, we’ll go as slow as you need. Tell me if you want to stop.”

I sigh, nodding, and close my eyes. Liam doesn’t move as I force myself to take deep breaths, and his chuckle proves that I’m not successful at all. I moan aloud when his hand starts massaging into my calf, thumb pressing into the tension until it melts away. He’s steady in his movements, and soon enough, he’s managed to relieve my body of the reluctance, the doubts. His fingers continue stroking firmly into my skin even as he situates himself between my thighs again; I arch up when he presses a kiss to my core, slips his tongue inside of me. My hand finds his hair, the strands silken around my fingers, and my skin burns with the flames of want. A strangled sound escapes my throat as my gut squeezes tighter and tighter, before exploding like starbursts behind my closed eyes. He doesn’t stop, not until I whimper at the overstimulation. Even then, he drags his tongue along my folds once more before pulling away.

The burning stretch is enough to make me wince and hiss in pain, and Liam freezes, leans down to kiss me; the taste of myself on his tongue is oddly arousing, and my legs instinctively tighten around his waist. He pushes further in, his movements slow, and his kiss keeps me from thinking too much about the fact that everything about this is new, unfamiliar, and everything I thought I’d never want. After an agonisingly long minute, he’s fully sheathed. My hips push down against him in an attempt to chase the sensations I somehow know are waiting for me. The kiss turns hard and demanding as he pulls and pushes; the tenderness of his thrusts are a perfect counterpoint to the animalistic heat as we kiss. My nails dig into his shoulders. He groans, hips snapping forward with more force, and I cry out at the pain-pleasure. I lose all sense of self outside of the way my body rocks with his thrusts, the way his breath puffs against my throat as he nips and suckles at the sensitive skin, and I find myself drowning in the desire and feeling of being so full, so complete.


	30. Touch, Make Love, Taste You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _body says_ demi lovato

My legs tremble, threaten to give out from underneath me, and my fingernails scrabble against the tile wall for purchase. There’s none to be found, though, but I don’t get the chance to mention my weak knees before my head falls back, my cry echoing over the sound of the water hitting the floor. Liam catches me as I start sliding down the wall, wiping his face and pressing his lips to mine. It’s a sloppy kiss, my head is swimming too much to be able to focus properly, and it’s made worse by the way he’s kissing me breathless. We slowly manage to stand, and he winces as his knee pops. I frown; he shakes his head and pushes my damp hair from my face.

“Fuck, but you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, and I scrape my nails along his chest in response. He stares down at me once I’ve lowered myself to the floor. “Love?”

His cock is hard, dripping at the tip, the skin flushed a deep purple-red. I wrap my fingers loosely around the shaft, slowly stroking him from root to head. His palm presses to the tile wall, and he growls low in his throat when my other hand comes up, nails digging into the sharp divot of his hipbone. As I drag my fist over his cock, his hips thrust forward, and I watch the flush in his cheeks spread over his face, his throat, his chest. His fingers twist in my hair, and my mouth falls open at the sudden spike in arousal, the heat pooling and overflowing from my core; his _oh god, that’s sexy_ is almost unheard when I drop my free hand to between my thighs, dragging across my soaking folds and _there_, and I whimper, gasp, at the way I feel right now. An errant thought drifts across my brain, and I can’t shake it off, it’s dug its claws in too deeply. I gaze up at him through my lashes, and his eyes widen as he watches my finger disappear into myself. I add another one after a second, press my palm against myself, my hips grinding into the pressure. His breath stutters when I lean forward slightly, my tongue lapping lightly at his dick before taking the head into my mouth; I shatter apart as my orgasm crashes over me, fucking myself with my hand and the taste and weight of him on my tongue too much.

Liam slams his other hand against the wall with a shout as his cock throbs in the circle of my fingers, and I choke, gag slightly, at the hot splashes that hit the back of my throat. I don’t pull away, even when I feel some of his release seeping from the corners of my lips, dripping down my chin. It’s an odd taste - salty and slightly bitter - but I can’t say that I mind it. I release him as he begins to soften in my grip, my mouth, and he pants heavily over me as his eyes rake over my face.

“You can spit it out if you’re not comfortable swallowing, it’s okay,” he finally whispers breathlessly a moment later.

I think for less than a second before exposing my throat to him. A groan tears from deep in his chest once he realises I’ve swallowed. I doubt I’ll do it again, but after such a fantastic night - and morning - with him, I feel like it’s a small thing to do. He tugs me to my feet and swipes his thumb across the corner of my mouth. I give him a soft grin, lean up to kiss him, then slip past him so I can shower. For real, this time. We’d been up half the night just talking and exploring each other’s bodies, figuring out what feels good to us both; it was much less awkward for me the second time, and my discomfort at it all was nonexistent by the third time around two-thirty in the morning. I’d told him I needed to shower after breakfast, and he had asked if he could join. I assume it had been a joke, because he’d laughed it off and told me to enjoy it. To say he’d been surprised when I grabbed his hand and lead him toward the bathroom is an understatement.

I sprawl across the bed, body relaxed and sated and completely worn out; Liam curls around me, peppering my collarbone and cheeks with kisses, and I giggle as the stubble on his jaw tickles my skin. His lips catch mine, and I sigh blissfully into the kiss. I know that nothing more is going to happen - there’s been plenty of that already; it’s nice, however, to just share lazy kisses while cuddling. He pulls away with a frustrated sigh at the sound of a knock on the door. I watch completely without shame as he crosses the room to the dresser, yanks a pair of basketball shorts from the bottom drawer, and tugs them on; the scowl on his face is too adorable, and I roll onto my belly and close my eyes.

“Nope. If I have to get clothes on, so do you.”

“That wasn’t in the contract,” I mutter in response, wiggling when he bites playfully at my shoulder. “Fine, since it’s so important.”

Brianna’s voice comes from the living room, and Liam frowns down at me. I shrug, just as surprised by her showing up, and he drops a kiss to my hair before exiting the room, pulling the door closed behind him. I decide it’s probably a good time to get dressed, reach for one of the T-shirts we’d kicked off the mattress last night when I’d interrupted his packing. I’ve just pulled a pair of underwear from my purse and up my legs when the door opens. I glance over my shoulders to see my best friend slipping in. I finish buttoning my jeans and belatedly realise that I’ve retrieved them from the same drawer Liam got his shorts. _What does this mean?_ I shake off the thoughts and turn to Brianna.

“What are you doing here?”

“We just wanted to make sure Lima’s all ready for tour.” Her eyes land on the suitcase that’s still half-empty, and her lips pull down at the corners. “He’s never this far behind on packing. Hell, he’s always the first one done. Oh, my _God_!”

“What?”

“You guys had sex!” she hisses with a look toward the door, as if she fully expects our friends to come barging in even though their voices are distant.

“Can we not talk about this?”

She nods, but the sparkle in her hazel eyes tells me she’s so not close to letting the subject drop. “Okay, okay. But... was it good?”

“It was, hands down, the best I’ve ever had. Granted, it’s the _only_ I’ve ever had, so make of that what you will,” I tack on; her cackling immediately cuts off, her teeth closing with an audible clacking noise.

“Wait, what?”

I shake my head as I hear footsteps in the hall, my boyfriend’s voice coming closer. Bri stares at me with wide eyes; she latches onto Liam’s arm the second he steps into the room, drags him back out with an order to Louis and Harry to entertain me, she’ll be back. I drop my head forward, and my hands come up to cover my face. Fantastic.

“What’s going on?” Louis asks once he’s done staring after his girlfriend and friend, and I let out a manic giggle. I’m not going to explain this to him.

**[Bri’s POV]**  
“Hey, there, Lima, how are you? Good! We need to talk.”

Liam follows after me patiently, and I’m glad for it. Having to forcefully lug his useless body down the hall to the kitchen would be far too embarrassing for the both of us. Him, because he’d be being manhandled by me, and me because well, it would just be another point of evidence that I’m not always cool, calm, and collected. But right now, I need to be - this conversation isn’t about me and my feelings. It’s about protecting the one person I’ve always been able to count on, the one person who’s been the sole reason for my existence for so long. DJ is my person, my platonic lobster, my non-romantic soulmate. And I’ll be damned if Liam doesn’t know this.

We come to a stop in the kitchen, and I stare back the way we came to make sure none of the others are trying to listen in. When I’m sure they aren’t, I turn to Liam and smile without humour.

“She’s everything to me, okay? That chick in there has been my ride-or-die since before we even knew what that meant. She means more to me than Louis does, more than anyone of you ever will. And for that reason, her happiness and well-being matters so much to me. I will literally kill someone for her - Hell, I offered to kill that rat bastard -”

“Don’t blame you, I wanna kill him myself.”

My brain stutters - she’s told him? _Thank god for small miracles!_ \- but I push on. “As I was saying. Deej is the one who got me through before I moved here. Okay? My loyalty will always, always, _always_ be to her. No matter what. So if you ever hurt her? I will not hesitate to kill you, chop you up into small pieces, and feed those pieces to every single pig on every single farm within a thousand-mile radius. I don’t care that you were the first guy she’s ever loved like this, or had sex with, or whatever. She comes first. And I won’t stop to think of consequences when it comes to protecting her.”

Liam places his hands on my shoulders, rests his forehead against mine. “I know. I do. But I promise now, nothing I do will ever be done with the intent to hurt her. She’s... she means the world to me, too, you know.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to kill you.”

“I’d hate for you to have to kill me.” He kisses my cheek and pulls away, but I tug him back toward me; if the jerk thinks he’s going to get away with not hugging me, he’s wrong. He wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me into the air and squeezing tightly. My breathlessness isn’t just from the vice-like hold he has on me, not when he whispers in my ear, “I fucking love her.”


	31. I Can't Fight the Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **title credit** _right now_ one direction

I toss my phone onto the couch and stare blankly at the television. Brianna had paused it ten minutes ago to take a phone call, so I’m left with the wonderful view of JD frozen mid-talking. It’s okay, though - this episode always breaks my heart worse than any of the others. There is just something about the way Doctor Cox gives up and shatters after the patients die... I can’t ever stop myself from tearing up. So not watching the entire episode in one sitting is best, or I’d be a blubbering mess.

Bri comes back after another quarter-hour, and by this time, I’ve nearly fallen asleep from boredom. She pulls my feet into her lap, pressing the play button on the remote. Her expression is unreadable, and I start to get worried; I’ve always been able to figure out how she’s feeling by her face. I nudge her with a toe.

“Things good?”

“Yeah, they’re fine.”

“Muffin, it’s me.”

She sighs, pauses the show again. “That was my grandma.”

“What’s she want?”

“Wanted to know if I’d be at this year’s family reunion since, as she put it, ‘your piece of shit parents aren’t gonna be there, so there ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ ya from seein’ the family who _did_ love you’.”

“Are you kidding me?” I sit up quickly and gape at her. “She really said that?”

“Yep.”

“What the actual hell. Bri, I mean this with as much respect towards you as I can possibly muster, but if they loved you like they say they do, they wouldn’t have left you in that shitty situation for so long.”

“I know, I know. And you’re right. They weren’t family when I needed them, and now that I don’t need them, they wanna swoop in and have me around?” She shakes her head, picking at a thread on her sock. “She wants me to bring, fuck, how’d she put it, that ‘good-looking but awful tattoos’ boyfriend of mine. Which means they’ve managed to use the singular working brain cell they’ve got collectively and figured out who he is.”

“I’m sorry, hun. Want me to go in your place and kick their asses? Because you know I will.”

“I know. And I appreciate the thought,” she murmurs with a soft smile. “But nah. I told her I’d rather rot in Hell than deal with any of them for the rest of my life. They’re not my family. You are. Lou, Nialler, Haz, Lima, Olly... even Zayn. Y’all are my family. Now, let’s get back to having our hearts ripped to shreds, shall we?”

I shift around on the couch until I’m sitting right by her, tugging her to the side; she giggles as we fall over, and I yelp as her elbow jabs me in the stomach. Eventually, we get situated to where I lie behind her, her back to my chest, my arm draped over her waist. When JD repeats Cox’s words back at him, my heart clenches in my chest. I know Bri’s shaking shoulders and quiet sniffles aren’t caused by the show. I hold her closer and let her cry, let her use the emotional scene as an excuse. She doesn’t need to be called out on it.

I scoop another spoonful of Lucky Charms into my mouth, chewing obnoxiously on purpose, as Brianna rushes through the house. She flips me off and tucks her phone between her ear and shoulder, mutters something under her breath.

“No, not you, Lou. Shush. Deej, you seen my keys?”

“Hanging on the hook by the door,” I reply around the cereal, and she grimaces in disgust but disappears; the jingle of keys lets me know I was right. “Toldja!”

“Okay, babe, I gotta go. Gotta kill a best friend. I love you, too.”

Bri comes back into the kitchen looking much less harried, and I wave my spoon at her. Patting down her pockets, she makes her way to the coffee cup on the counter, gulps down a large mouthful without a wince. I snort and slurp at my milk, finishing it off in two quick swallows. I pass over the key ring she’s left on the table; she forces a smile then takes in a deep breath.

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Go. It’s, like, four days. I’ve survived longer on my own.”

“Locking yourself in Liam’s room for a sex marathon is not surviving on your own.”

“It wasn’t a sex marathon!” I protest even through my laughter.

“How many times, then? Any more than three, and you’re a whore for his dick.”

“In my defence, it’s a _really nice_ dick.”

She laughs, shaking her head, and darts forward to kiss my cheek. “Love you, bitch. Stay out of trouble, don’t start a fire, and don’t get murdered. I’ll say hey to your boo, but I ain’t doin’ none of that nasty shit y’all get up to.”

“You and Lou are way worse!” I shout after her, and the door shuts on her giggles.

**To: Liam** _House to myself. What to do what to do..._

**From: Liam** _Sleep! Sleep is always a good choice. _

**To: Liam** _Aww, is someone not getting enough sleep?_

**From: Liam** _You’re not here so how am I supposed to get any sleep?_

**To: Liam** _I mean, even if I WAS there, you wouldn’t be getting enough sleep so... _

His response is a selfie; it’s dark, slightly grainy, but there’s no denying the mischievous smirk - or the fact that the angle he’s taken the photo at is hiding nothing. I bite my lip and glance down at myself. The tank-top I’m wearing is threadbare, ragged along the hem, and my sweatpants have tiny holes all over them. Definitely not anything to brag about. I send back a string of heart-eye and eggplant emojis then head upstairs to get ready for work. Just because Bri’s able to run off to be with her boyfriend while he’s on tour doesn’t mean I can do the same.

My skin is beet red by the time I press the button to send the image; it’s nothing quite as risqué as Liam’s been sending me, but it is still out of my comfort zone. It took five changes in position and lighting for me to be okay with it, and as embarrassed as I am at having taken and sent it, I can’t find it in me to regret it. I stare down at the picture of me lying on my stomach on my bed, the thin sheer fabric of my panties barely covering the curve of my ass. Only the furthest right side of my face is visible at the edge of the image - the rest is my body on display. My mortification fades when Liam’s next text comes in:

**From: Liam** _Jfjdkdofkeososfkdospanf damn it, I wish I was there right now. Fuck. _  
**From: Liam** _You are absolutely gorgeous _  
**From: Liam** _Seriously. You have no idea what you do to me. _  
**From: Liam** _I can’t believe you’re mine. I love you. _

I stare down at the last message, my jaw dropped. He... he loves me? A heady warmth blooms in my chest, even as I giggle wildly. The bright sunspot beneath my ribs sticks around; I type back an _I love you, too. Thank you for choosing me_, finish pulling on a pair of scrubs, and clip my badge onto my top. It stays with me through my shift with Mitchell and then Rosie. It still hasn’t faded by the time I crawl into bed after making sure every window and door is locked tight against the night.

**To: Liam** _Goodnight, babe. Love you xx _

**From: Liam** _Sleep well x_

**[ooxoo]**

I collapse back against my mattress, gasping in shaky breaths, and listen to Liam’s heavy breathing in my ear. I can still hear the way he’d bitten off his noises in attempt to not have our friends listening in, the tremulous whisper of my name, the wet slide of his hand as he wrung every last bit of orgasm from himself. My hand trembles violently as I reach for the packet of wet wipes on my nightstand. Neither of us speaks for a long moment; even if he said anything in that moment, I doubt I’ll hear it over the my blood pounding in my ears to the rapid-fire racing of my heart.

I don’t bother getting dressed, just slide between my sheets. Curling up on my side, I smile into the dark of my room, though my cheeks are still burning hot. When he’d initially suggested phone sex, my first instinct had been to say no and not consider it further. But the idea had kept me awake that night, and I tossed and turned through the hours as my mind made a pros-cons list - Pro: Hearing Liam lose control like that. Con - Never done it before. Pro - Having some sort of intimacy with my boyfriend while he’s gone. Con - Not being able to see him, which makes the whole thing slightly more awkward. Pro - Knowing I can affect him like that, even with the distance. Con - ???

It hadn’t taken me any time at all tonight to clean up after work and immediately text him, asking if he was busy. By some miracle, he wasn’t. I giggle to myself when I remember the shock in his voice when he’d answered the phone only to hear me telling him in excruciating details about my shower and the fact I was lying on my bed, nude and alone and wanting. His chuckle echoes down the line.

“What’s so funny, love?”

I let out a slow breath. “Nothing, just thinking about you.”

“Well, that’s a good thing, I think. I mean, why not think about the man you love?”

I roll my eyes and wish he could be here so I can cuddle with him. The silence between us drags on, and the sound of his breathing is oddly comforting. I never thought I could be this happy - not after that night when I was eleven, or after Jacob. The thought of his name no longer sends shivers down my spine, and I’ve not woken up from nightmares about being back in that room in months. I know that I’ve gotten lucky in terms of recovery; not many people heal quite so quickly.

His voice is soft, distant, slurred at the edges as if he’s struggling to stay awake when he speaks.

“Can I tell you something, and you promise not to get mad?”

“Uh... I can promise to _try_ to not get mad,” I reply hesitantly, gripping my phone tighter against my ear.

“I, er, I was quite jealous of Harry.”

“What? When? _Why_?”

“That morning, when we were at his place and we got ambushed by reporters? I was jealous that he got to spend the night with you. I mean, I was pretty sure you hadn’t done anything with him, but... yeah.”

I can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes, and I drag my blanket up and tuck it under my chin. “Oh, love of mine. You never had anything to worry about. I wanted you from the start.”

“Really?”

“Yup,” I say with a nod, though I know he can’t see it, “from the very first time I saw you. My first thought was literally ‘Holy shit, I want’.”

“Well, you have.”

“And you have me, too. That’s something Harry nor anyone else will have. I love you,” I murmur, though it’s too late - he’s already breathing deeply, evenly. He’s asleep.

I listen for another few minutes, but when my eyes start burning and I can’t keep them open much longer, I whisper a goodnight and hang up, setting my phone on the nightstand. I roll onto my belly, shove my arms under my pillow, and quickly fall asleep. The thought of him loving me is one that will never cease to amaze me; he can have anyone in the entire world - and there are plenty who have tried - but he continues to choose me every single day. My heart is full, heavy with everything I feel for him, and I can’t help but hope that this continues for a very, very long time.

**[ooxoo]**

The squeak of the door hinges alerts me to a presence, and I put my phone on silent, tossing it aside. A heavy thump of a suitcase hitting the floor comes next; my heart flutters under my sternum, and my lungs seem to shrink as I realise this is it. I adjust the sheet covering me with shaking hands as footsteps near the bedroom. Thankfully, I’d had the presence of mind to text Liam three hours ago letting him know I planned to be here, so he won’t freak out once he comes in and sees someone in his bed.

His face lights up when he first catches sight of me, but then his eyes darken, pupils blowing wide, as his gaze drags along my body. I stifle my giggle at the frantic way he yanks his shirt over his head, stumbles as he steps out of his jeans. The door slams shut with an echo, and he hurries across the room almost instantly. He tugs the sheet off of me and lets out a loud groan; I shiver in the sudden coolness against my exposed skin, nothing covering me any longer. His body blankets me, his lips catching mine in a desperate and bruising kiss, and I wrap a leg around his waist, gasping and giggling when he whimpers softly.

“I want you,” I whisper when he finally pulls back to drag in a ragged breath, and he nods fervently.

It isn’t long before words are unnecessary; all that needs to be said is said in the way we move together, the way our bodies shift and pull and slide, the way he swallows down my moans and gasps, the way I steal the unspoken murmurs of praise that linger on his lips. Fire consumes me, burns away the past and the darkness, promises nothing of the future and the light. It leaves all that matters - everything I’m feeling right here, right now.


End file.
